


Shades of Justice

by ArlyssTolero



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Plot bunny farm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArlyssTolero/pseuds/ArlyssTolero
Summary: A repository of story ideas from across the Arrowverse, mostly centering on Oliver Queen, Barry Allen, Sara Lance, Kara Danvers and their relationships with their teams, loved ones, and significant others. A dumping ground for half-formed ideas and 'burn fast and bright but short-lived' possibilities that may never see themselves fully realized.
Relationships: Barry Allen & Kara Danvers & Sara Lance & Oliver Queen, Barry Allen & Team Flash, Kara Danvers & Team Supergirl, Oliver Queen & Team Arrow, Sara Lance & Team Legends
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. Black Siren: Redemption 2.0

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the Arrowverse.

Oliver Queen was in a foul mood. After Felicity Smoak had basically used him to scratch an itch and left him heartbroken on the floor of the Bunker, Oliver had been questioning everything about his relationship with Felicity and found it wanting. The things he had ignored because he believed he loved her flooded back. The constant sniping comments that belittled him and his intelligence, undermining him on the comms, and using the comms to discuss things from their personal life on the team channel… all of it came flooding back and he had had to take a good hard look at his relationship with Felicity. In the end, he realized the problem was that the two of them had been in love with an idealized version of one another, and that had been their undoing.

Unfortunately, this left Oliver in a bit of a quandary. He had already been uncomfortable with Felicity’s comments about his physique and the way he trained himself to keep in tip-top shape, and that was before they had gotten together. Now they had and her comments still happened, and it was honestly beginning to creep him out. Combine that with the fact she had used and dumped him after scratching an itch, and he was not anywhere close to willing to work with the woman. So, he had sent her a message saying they were done and that he would handle things on his own, and if she came to the Bunker to argue he’d put an arrow in her. So far, she had stayed away, and so had Curtis Holt, which was no great loss seeing as Curtis was the bastard who’d set the whole thing in motion in the first place.

Ever since, Oliver had been spending his time either patrolling the city as Green Arrow or going through the mass amount of data that Felicity had kept logged. He had no need to keep track of past triumphs and had swiftly deleted these beyond basic notes on the situation that he had found himself in with his enemies and how he had apprehended them. At least, he did so for repeat offenders like Werner Zytle, aka Count Vertigo, who he had recently apprehended, though not without getting wounded in the process. He had also found quite the backlog of messages from Team Flash, which he was slogging his way through to make sure there wasn’t anything he needed to be aware of that Felicity had failed to inform him about.

Oliver was in the middle of this very process at the moment, having read several messages concerning the situation regarding the metahumans from Earth-2 that had followed Zoom. The language of the report required one to be familiar with everything Team Flash had passed on, but Oliver felt as if the reports had been edited somehow, because almost every mention of Zoom’s last remaining lieutenant referred to the meta as Black Siren rather than by name. He wasn’t sure if this editing was done on the other end or if Felicity had done this remotely herself before he had blocked her out of his system. As Felicity herself had noted when she left after the incident with Carrie Cutter a few months back, Oliver didn’t _need_ her because he had learned these skills while an indentured servant for A.R.G.U.S., and when it came right down to it, A.R.G.U.S. was better than Felicity any day of the week.

Oliver brought up what appeared to be the final report on the situation. All the metahumans from Earth-2, save for this Black Siren, had been returned to Earth-2 and would be handed over to the proper authorities with the aid of Harry Wells and his daughter, Jesse. Black Siren remained in custody on Earth-1, locked away in Barry’s secret prison in the pipeline, because she alone could rally the remaining members of Zoom’s army and continue his mission. What Oliver was not impressed by one bit was the lack of information on what Zoom’s goals were, what had caused so many metahumans to side with him. As smart as Barry and his team were, they let their emotions cloud their judgment far too often for Oliver to be comfortable with this. Seeing as he needed to go to Central City anyways to get his suit modified by Cisco (he was getting rid of the no sleeves look since it had proven to be a tactical disadvantage), he would look into this matter himself seeing as this Black Siren was still locked away in the pipeline.

Speaking of, this last report had a video capture of Black Siren in the pipeline. Oliver clicked on it, curious to find out if this Black Siren was a doppelganger of someone he had known and that was why the reports had been edited not to reveal their name, or if that was the name that they knew them by and no other. The video clip filled the screen, and Oliver practically reeled back from the screen in shock. Sitting on the floor of one of Barry’s inhumane cells (even the A.R.G.U.S. supermax on Lian Yu afforded the prisoners basic amenities due to them as human beings), her knees drawn up under her chin as she held herself closely as though afraid of being beaten, was Dinah Laurel Lance. Her honey-blonde hair hung limply, brushing her shoulders, and her green eyes glared up at the camera.

Oliver closed out the video clip and looked back over the reports, focusing on everything mentioned about Black Siren. Her strikes against various buildings in Central City, her first meeting with The Flash, the deception that Barry and his team had used to keep her distracted, and her eventual capture when they used a vibrational frequency to knock all Earth-2 metahumans out. Her status within Zoom’s army, knowledge obtained from Harry Wells about Black Siren and her known actions, and finally the decision to keep her locked away on Earth-1 to keep her from becoming a rallying point for Zoom’s army and start his crusade all over again. Oliver leaned back in his chair, mind racing as he took everything in.

She had struck at buildings with skeleton crews or no one present rather than apartment buildings full of sleeping families. She had toyed with Barry instead of destroying him when she was clearly capable of it, because even his speed healing couldn’t hold up to sonic waves that could destroy buildings. As for her known actions, without context Oliver could do nothing with them. It appeared that he had another reason to visit Central City: he would have to do what Barry and his team were too afraid to do.

Ask the hard questions and not just trust Harrison Wells.

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver, his suit packed away in a duffel bag, pulled up in front of S.T.A.R. Labs and kicked the stand of his motorcycle down as he dismounted. He untied his duffel bag and carried it in one hand as he approached the facility. He knew that at the very least, Cisco and Caitlin would be present and handling things on the tech side. He would be able to have Barry called in and then he and Barry’s team could have a much-needed discussion on the topic of Black Siren. Oliver moved through the mostly-empty facility of S.T.A.R. Labs like a ghost and found himself in the Cortex before too long. In his mind he found the lack of security irritating; no wonder Barry and his team had problems with their security. The building wasn’t in the least bit secure.

Oliver found Cisco at the main computer desk, Caitlin beside him monitoring Barry’s vitals as he raced through the city. Cisco was guiding him to a fire in a tenement building. Oliver remained silent until Barry confirmed he was there and handling the situation before he spoke. “Cisco, Caitlin,” he said softly, announcing his presence.

Cisco yipped in fright and turned around, startled. Caitlin turned her eyes wide with surprise. “Man, we have got to get you a collar with a bell or something,” Cisco complained.

“ _Everything alright back there?_ ” Barry asked in those odd double tones he had when he was vibrating his voice to disguise it.

“Yeah, yeah, Oliver just showed up like the damn ninja that he is,” Cisco replied, and Oliver smirked in response. He took great pride in being a ‘damned ninja’, after all. “You just deal with that and come back when everything’s settled there. We’ll be fine as long as Oliver doesn’t try to give us another heart attack.”

“You just weren’t being observant enough,” Oliver said mildly, and Cisco shot him a dirty look while Caitlin hid a smile. “Speaking of, your security sucks. I got in here without any challenge. Why is it you can give the Bunker the security that you do, but leave your own facility vulnerable to infiltration by people with dark intentions?”

“Speaking of, what brings you by, Oliver?” Caitlin asked, while Cisco squawked in protest.

“Need an upgrade for the suit,” Oliver said, lifting the bag. “Turns out no sleeves is a tactical disadvantage. I figure Cisco can work something up. And… we need to talk about recent events.” Cisco and Caitlin looked at one another, confused, before Cisco took the bag and headed for his workshop, muttering about ungrateful grouchy archers with perfectionist streaks and how they impeded his vision. Oliver duly ignored Cisco’s grumblings. Oliver turned to Caitlin. “So, things going well here?” he asked.

“We’re in the middle of working on a new addition to the facility, a speed lab where Barry and other speedsters who are allies can train in safety,” Caitlin replied. “We could use your eye for some of the obstacles.” A glint developed in Oliver’s eye, causing the younger woman to add rather hastily, “Within reason, Oliver. No shooting sharpened objects into Barry and our guests.”

“But they need to know to expect the unexpected,” Oliver countered. “I was trained to overthink things so that I would prepare for every eventuality. That’s why I’m so adaptable. And it’s not like that little exercise didn’t make Barry think things through going forward.” Caitlin tilted her head in acknowledgement. “How about blunted projectiles? Enough to sting, but not hurt or maim?”

“That we could do,” Caitlin said agreeably and brought up the plans for the Speed Lab on her computer. She was silent for a moment before she said, “This isn’t the only development. I-I learned I have the same powers as my Earth-2 counterpart. Cisco and Barry aren’t letting me be consumed by worrying over them. They’re reminding me every day that I’m a very different person from Killer Frost.”

“I heard somewhere that it’s our choices, not our traits that determine who we are,” Oliver said.

Caitlin smirked. “Been watching _Harry Potter_ in your downtime, Mr. Queen?”

“Well, I only just learned a few months ago that there are movies, and you could say I watch them because they remind me of a happier time,” Oliver said, nostalgia sweeping over him. Caitlin smiled sympathetically at the man, easily guessing who it was he was thinking of. Barry and Cisco might think Felicity was the woman Oliver loved, but Caitlin had seen how Laurel Lance and Oliver Queen interacted when they were in Central City together last year, helping with Carter and Kendra. Even then, it was obvious there was a connection between them. Caitlin supposed she could see it because she had had such a similar bond with Ronnie.

Barry arrived with a whoosh of air and the crackle of electricity, pulling down his cowl to greet Oliver. “Hey, man, nice to see you outside of Star City for a change,” he said, giving Oliver a one-armed ‘bro hug’, which Oliver accepted patiently. Barry was one of the only people in the world who could get away with hugging Oliver in any fashion. “What brings you by?”

“Suit upgrade and I need to update you on a few things,” Oliver said diplomatically. He paused for a moment before deciding to get it all out there. “I also have questions about your guest in the pipeline.”

“We kinda expected you here about that weeks ago, we figured you had nothing to say about it,” Barry said in consternation.

“Actually, I just found out about it, and I’d rather not repeat myself, so if you could get Cisco back up here, I’d appreciate it,” Oliver said. Barry and Caitlin exchanged concerned looks before Caitlin called Cisco back up to the Cortex. The tech genius of S.T.A.R. Labs appeared a few minutes later.

“Does a Kevlar weave sound good for your sleeves?” he shot at Oliver, who blinked but nodded. “Good. That means I can have your suit upgraded before the end of the day. So why am I up here instead of working on that suit?”

“Oliver, for some reason, only just found out about Black Siren,” Barry informed his friend, who frowned at the revelation. He had personally sent the notification to Felicity. “Oliver wanted to tell us about a few things that have happened.” Cisco, Caitlin, and Barry turned their attention to Oliver.

“The first and most important thing you need to know is that I’ve removed Felicity from my team and blocked her access to my base of operations,” Oliver said. The members of Team Flash looked surprised at that. “I won’t get into the details, as they’re private, but suffice to say Felicity has abused my trust in more ways than one, and I won’t work with someone that I don’t trust.” Team Flash nodded sympathetically; they understood that all too well after betrayals by the original Wells, aka Eobard Thawne, and the faux Jay Garrick, aka Zoom. “Part of that betrayal of trust is that she’s been editing the reports I have access to, and I had to break through an encryption on the communications between our teams to discover the log of reports you’ve sent my way. I’m still trying to make my way through them, but I found out about Black Siren, and your last report I have on her had a video clip attached. I checked the data on the clip, and it’s been viewed several times from the computer in my Bunker. The only people that use those computers are me and Felicity, and I’ve left them to be handled by her almost exclusively all summer.”

“So, you’re saying Felicity knew about Black Siren and not only didn’t tell you, but watched the feed from our pipeline several times?” Cisco asked. Oliver nodded. “Oliver, that wasn’t a video clip. That was a secure feed so that you could check on her at any time, so you’d feel safe and know she wasn’t going to try and impersonate the Laurel we all knew. I’m shocked Felicity didn’t tell you about this, and kind of horrified that she accessed the feed several times. That almost makes it like she was deriving some kind of pleasure from that feed, and that wasn’t what we wanted at all.”

“I know, Cisco,” Oliver said quietly. “I know the three of you would never set out to deliberately not inform me of a potential security threat to myself and my city. I do have a few things I want to discuss regarding Black Siren, though. What I have read written in the reports has left me with questions, questions I think we all deserve the answers to.”

“Like what?” Barry asked.

“Like what things are like for metahumans on Earth-2 that so many joined Zoom,” Oliver said quietly. “Like why she destroyed buildings that were empty or nearly-empty, why she didn’t destroy you without hesitation but drew it out until someone intervened. There’s just too much left unanswered and I don’t like unanswered questions.”

“We’ve thought about approaching her for information, but for all we know she’ll lie to us,” Cisco said.

“True, the potential for deceit is always there, but you have contacts on Earth-2, don’t you? Why not reach out to them to confirm or discredit whatever she brings to our attention?” Oliver asked.

“We could do that,” Barry nodded. “Harry’s due to come over from Earth-2 tomorrow with Jesse. We can question Black Siren today and get the answers from Harry tomorrow to see if things match up.”

“I’ll let Cisco get back to working on my suit then,” Oliver said. “I want Green Arrow and The Flash to question Black Siren together, get to the bottom of all of this.”

“Sounds good, man,” Barry said, and Cisco headed off to his workshop again. “Feel like grabbing a drink while we wait?”

“This time, I’m buying,” Oliver said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Barry said, and the two men walked out of the Cortex together. Caitlin shook her head and began implementing Oliver’s ideas into the plans for the Speed Lab.

**_*DC*_ **

The Flash and Green Arrow stood side-by-side, Green Arrow with his hood and mask in place and a voice modulator activated, facing the bulkhead door that was the entrance to the pipeline. The Flash keyed in the command sequence that would bring Black Siren’s pod forward and a few moments later, the door hissed upward and revealed the Earth-2 metahuman, who stretched languidly as she stood before approaching the front of the pod. It was only a few short steps, but they were graceful and deadly, like a lioness stalking her prey. “Well, well, what’s this?” she asked sardonically. “Finally come to have a chat with little old me, Red? And you brought another member of the leather-lover’s club, how delightful. If you think bringing Robert Queen to question me is gonna break me, Red, I hope you enjoy disappointment.”

“ **We’re not here to break you, Miss Lance,** ” Green Arrow said, filing away the reference to his father to question Black Siren on at a later date.

“ _We want some information from you, information that might see you step out of this cell,_ ” The Flash said. That had been a sticking point for a bit between the two heroes, but Green Arrow had insisted that if their questioning of Black Siren and confirmation from Harry Wells revealed that she was not the destructive villainess she had appeared to be, then they needed to let her go free, even if it was to find her place on this Earth since she might not want to go back to an Earth where she was wanted for crimes against the United States (as Wells had been most emphatic about when he argued for her continued imprisonment on Earth-1).

“Interesting offer,” Black Siren said. “But how do I know you aren’t lying to me? For all I know you’ll pump me for information and then let me rot in this cell.”

“ **You have my word that if what you tell us is confirmed by independent sources and it would lead to your release from this cell, you _will_ be released,**” Green Arrow said.

“ _He’s telling the truth, he pushed hard for the option to have you released if what you tell us points in that direction,_ ” The Flash said, seeing Black Siren shoot him a look.

Black Siren looked between them, her green eyes flicking from side-to-side before finally focusing on observing the both of them again. “I guess I don’t have much to lose, and potentially everything to gain,” she said. “What do you want to know?”

“ **What are conditions like for metahumans on Earth-2?** ” Green Arrow asked. “ **There must be some reason so many of you followed Hunter Zolomon.** ”

“Survival,” Black Siren replied. “It’s a crime to carry the metagene.’

“ _Metagene?_ ” The Flash asked curiously.

Black Siren scoffed in disbelief. “You mean you don’t know? How in the Multiverse did you manage to beat Zoom, Red? You’re not even half as intelligent as he was. The metagene is what gives us our powers. Under normal circumstances a moment of extreme duress is required to activate the gene, but dark matter jump-starts it.”

“ **So, they made it against the law to carry a gene? Might as well outlaw those whose genetics give them blue eyes or brown hair,** ” Green Arrow said softly.

Black Siren eyed him thoughtfully. “You’re not like my Green Arrow,” she finally said. “Robert Queen helped to design the prisons where metahumans are taken, most of them being black sites run by A.R.G.U.S.” She looked over at The Flash. “Out of curiosity, Red, why is it him that’s got this understanding while you willingly committed a war crime?”

“ _We have only your word this is what life is like for metahumans on Earth-2,_ ” The Flash said, feeling something cold form in the pit of his stomach. _Had_ he committed a war crime when he returned the Earth-2 metahumans back to their home and the proper authorities on that side of the dimensional divide?

“ **What were conditions like in that prison?** ” Green Arrow asked, interrupting the argument that he could see forming.

“About the same as here,” Black Siren replied. “No bed, allowed out to use the facilities once a day under guard, meals that even the Army would turn their nose up at. What the hell is in that nutrient paste you people keep giving me, anyways?” Green Arrow turned to stare at The Flash, who shifted uncomfortably, causing Black Siren to smirk briefly before her smile faded as she called another detail of her imprisonment. “The men were chemically castrated while women had their ovaries surgically removed. Can’t have those vile metahumans procreating, now can we?” she asked with a nasty smile that she aimed at The Flash, who flinched back as though she had struck a physical blow. Green Arrow’s fist was tightening around his bow.

After a few moments, Green Arrow spoke again. “ **On Earth-2, you targeted government installations and holdings of Queen Industries. Why?** ”

“The government installations were all A.R.G.U.S.-run metahuman containment facilities. I was liberating people like me, giving them a chance to fight for the right to live,” Black Siren replied. “Queen Industries was partnered with A.R.G.U.S. But it was also personal. Robert Queen killed the man that I loved because he deemed his son too weak to survive, because all Ollie wanted after the _Gambit_ went down was to get back to me. Robert destroyed my future, so I was going to destroy _his_.” Green Arrow stirred at this while The Flash shot him a concerned look. Black Siren’s eyes narrowed speculatively, but she dismissed the idea that occurred to her. It wasn’t possible.

“ **Here on Earth-1, you targeted empty or near-empty buildings in the dead of night when you could have just targeted apartment buildings full of innocent families,** ” Green Arrow said. “ **Why?** ”

“Technology companies are the most likely to create anti-meta technology,” Black Siren replied, “and besides, it wasn’t my mission to slaughter innocents.”

“ _No, just to help Zoom conquer this Earth while he destroyed the rest of the Multiverse,_ ” The Flash said agitatedly.

“And wrong again, Red,” Black Siren said, head cocked to the side with a little smirk playing at her lips. “I never said my mission was from _Zoom_.”

Green Arrow put a hand on The Flash’s shoulder. “ **Easy,** ” he said softly. He turned his attention to Black Siren. “ **Does this have anything to do with why you didn’t rip The Flash apart when you had him at your mercy?** ” he asked, and The Flash jerked around to stare at him in shock before turning his gaze on Black Siren.

“Well, what do you know, brawn _and_ brains,” Black Siren said. “Red here was the only one who had a chance of stopping Zoom. Earth-2 was my home, and I didn’t want to see it destroyed. I decided that Zoom had grown too power-hungry and insane. I set _myself_ a mission to end his threat, even if it meant sparing the life of an enemy. I just didn’t expect to get captured and locked away for months while my people were sent back to hell by the so-called _hero_ who had captured us.”

“ **I see,** ” Green Arrow said. “ **Thank you for answering our questions, Miss Lance.** ” He nodded at Barry.

“Why do you care about what happens to me?” Black Siren asked Green Arrow as The Flash reached for the controls. “The Robert Queen I know would curl his lip in disgust at me, say I’m an abomination and deserve what I get for ensnaring his son with my siren’s song. How are you any different from the Robert I know?”

Green Arrow put a hand on The Flash’s shoulder again before stepping up to the tempered glass divider. Black Siren tilted her chin upward, green eyes flashing defiantly. Green Arrow lowered his mask, and then his hood. Black Siren’s eyes widened in shock and she took a step back. “Because I’m _not_ Robert Queen,” Oliver said softly, “and because I have to believe that no matter how different our two worlds are, you are not the sneering villainess The Flash and his team see you as, because that is not who Dinah Laurel Lance was at her core. She was passionate, opinionated, wouldn’t take crap from anyone, and told the truth as she saw it. Maybe your tells are different from hers, but if they’re not, then every word you’ve said here is true, and I promise you that I will see you free if that’s the case. I already failed to protect Laurel Lance once. I won’t do so again.” Oliver stepped back, nodding at The Flash, who activated the controls. The pipeline closed as Black Siren continued to stare at Oliver in shock and hope.


	2. Fires of Purgatory

Inside the _Queen’s Gambit_ , safe from the stormy seas outside, Robert Queen was looking at a weather map on the wall as his bodyguard, David Hackett, came in from the storm, water pouring from the deck and down onto the staircase before the door shut behind the bodyguard. “The storm's a category 2," Hackett said, managing to maintain an even tone as he spoke to his employer despite the chill in his bones from the storm outside. "The captain recommends we head back." 

Robert sighed. He had hoped to be able to make it to China and begin the process of working with Frank on curbing Malcolm’s mad plan to destroy the Glades. It looked like it would have to wait; he only hoped Frank didn’t lose the bravery to stand against Malcolm in the meantime. Robert wouldn’t be surprised if Frank faltered eventually; when Malcolm went cold and calculating it was hard not to toe the party line. "All right, inform the crew,” he said, even as Oliver came out of the state room, apparently to take a breather from the discussions he was having with Laurel Lance (when the two weren’t having other ‘discussions’). 

“Are we in trouble?" he asked, not really worried since the _Gambit_ had withstood storms before but still concerned since his girlfriend was on the ship with him. 

“Not if you and Laurel have reached an understanding in your negotiations," Robert teased with a small smile. Oliver let out a small laugh. “You know, son, you have a real winner with Laurel,” Robert said, dropping the teasing tone and giving his son a serious look. “Not a lot of girls as smart as she is would keep coming back with how you treat her.” 

Oliver was surprised at his father’s serious tone. They rarely spoke about women, especially since his father had shown disapproval about him sleeping around behind Laurel’s back. “I know, Dad,” Oliver sighed. “I just… I’m not sure I’m ready to settle down. She is, and she’s got it all planned out, but…” 

“But you don’t know how to handle it,” Robert finished. Seeing his son look at him in surprise, Robert laughed and said, “I was your age once, too, Oliver, and I was no different. I had one girl who kept coming back no matter what, even though my eyes wandered a bit too often for her tastes. That woman was your mother.” For a moment, Robert hesitated, before he finally said, “The truth is, son, even after I married your mother my eyes wandered, and I cheated. Despite this, she kept forgiving me and kept our family together, when she rightly could have divorced me, taken half the fortune along with you and your sister, and made me pay alimony on top of that. Your mother is a very smart, very dedicated woman who puts her family ahead of everything else. Laurel is like that, but she also has a much larger heart than your mother. Don’t make my mistakes, Oliver, because the difference between Moira and Laurel is that Laurel has other options and is with you because she sees something more in you.” 

With that, Robert left his son standing in the hallway, until a call of “Ollie?” from the door of the stateroom had Oliver turn to see Laurel. “Where do you keep the bottle opener on this thing?” she asked, a small smile on her face as they both remembered her asking a similar question only weeks earlier. 

**_*DC*_ **

Only moments before, they had been on their way to the commissary to find a late-night snack since neither of them were tired. Now, they were swimming for their lives, holding onto one another as they swam towards the gaping hole that represented freedom from a watery grave, and hopefully towards the surface. Allowing their breath to leave incrementally, the young man and woman escaped the wreckage of the _Queen’s Gambit_ and fought towards the surface, where they could see light from other survivors searching for them. Breaking the surface with a gasp, Oliver Queen pulled his girlfriend to surface as he felt her weaken slightly, and she broke the swirling ocean surface, coughing and gasping for air as he had only moments earlier. 

“Oliver! Laurel!” The two turned as they heard their names, and saw Robert calling from the nearby life raft, his bodyguard aboard with him. They frantically swam to the life raft and were helped aboard the raft. 

Robert handed Oliver a bottle of water. "Here, son," he said, "drink." Oliver did so, before handing the bottle to Laurel. 

“What the hell are you doing?!" Hackett shouted. "That's all we've got!" 

Robert glared at the man. "If anybody's making it out of here, it's gonna be them!" he snapped back as Laurel passed the bottle back to him. Robert put an arm around Oliver’s shoulders and pulled him closer to his chest. Laurel huddled close to Oliver. 

“I'm so sorry," Robert said, mainly to Oliver but in part to Laurel, shouting over the storm. "I thought I'd have more time.” He hadn’t expected Frank to back out so quickly, or to inform Malcolm before the _Gambit_ had even left the harbor. “I'm not the man you think I am, son! I didn't build our city, I failed it! And I wasn't the only one…" 

**_*DC*_ **

It had been several days, and everyone on the raft knew that they were running low on provisions. Hackett dozed across from Robert, Oliver, and Laurel, perched on the side of the raft with a knife held loosely in his hand. All three of them were eying him warily, wondering if he would use the knife on them if given the chance. Laurel was huddled beside Oliver, her mind numb. It was difficult to imagine the _Gambit_ going down in the storm, and the way Robert had spoken, it sounded like the _Gambit_ wasn’t an accident. 

Robert glanced at the crewman, and then pulled Oliver in close. 

“There's not enough for all of us." He whispered to his son. 

“Save your strength." Oliver said, weakly. 

“I will," Robert said. "I will make it home, make it better, and right the wrongs I committed. But I must commit a few more before I can do that. I’m sorry, Ollie, Laurel." 

“Just rest, dad." Oliver said tiredly, beginning to doze off, as Laurel was. Robert knew then that his decision was the right one. Neither Laurel nor Oliver would make it without the other, and there wasn’t enough food or water left, even with careful rationing. “I’m sorry," he said quietly, kissing his son on the forehead. He gently moved Oliver away from him, propping him up against the edge of the raft. Then, eyeing his bodyguard, he reached into his jacket, and pulled out the gun he had concealed there, which he had carried since the day he had chosen to defy Malcolm. Hackett only had a moment to look surprised before Robert pulled the trigger, shooting the man in the head and knocking him off the raft. 

This woke Oliver up suddenly, and he scrambled back from his dad in shock, moving to guard a terrified Laurel, who was watching this unfold with disbelief. 

“Dad!?"he exclaimed in stunned horror. 

Robert looked sadly back at his son. "I’m sorry, son, but only one of us is making it out of this alive. I promise, it will be quick." He moved to aim the gun, and in that moment, Oliver Queen changed forever. He was not going to let his father kill him, or Laurel, as he had that crewman. Oliver surged forward, rocking the raft slightly, and pushed the pistol up in the air. Robert and Oliver struggled for a moment, Robert gaining a position over Oliver on the raft. “Don’t you understand?” he all but shouted. “I am the only one who can fix this! I have to be the one to survive!” 

Oliver, through gritted teeth, slowly began to turn the gun away from him and towards his father. “You told me that I needed to fight to keep Laurel, and I’m going to,” Oliver told him. “I’m going to fight to keep her alive, and I’m going to protect her, even from you!” With that, Oliver jerked his knee upwards, striking his father between the legs. Surprised, Robert’s grip faltered, and that was all Oliver needed to push the gun to face upward. Finger closing over his father’s, Oliver uttered a, “Sorry, Dad,” before he fired. The bullet shot upward into Robert’s skull. The body of the patriarch of the Queen family fell to the side as Oliver, spattered with blood and brain matter, dropped the gun, shaking as what he had just done caught up with him. 

Laurel moved slowly to sit beside him and dipped her hand over the side. “Close your eyes, Ollie,” she murmured, and began using the sea water to clean the blood and brain matter off her boyfriend. She was shocked, horrified at what Oliver had had to do, but she was also grateful for what he had done to keep the two of them safe. She had never imagined Robert would become so unhinged, but whatever had been driving him, she knew that it had to be serious. For the time being, however, she needed to help Ollie sort through what happened. Then they needed to focus on surviving. 

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver Queen opened his eyes, glancing at the underside of the shelter he and Laurel had built once they arrived on the island the previous evening. They’d had enough light to create a makeshift camp and put the survival skills they had learned during camping trips with families and (in Oliver’s case) a very brief stint with the Boy Scouts of America. They had been sleeping on the branches of pine trees, huddled together for warmth and comfort, with the silver blanket from the survival kit on the raft wrapped around them. The shelter, crafted from a mix of sturdy branches and roofed with pine branches and leaves found on the ground, had provided a sense of normalcy they could slip into after the horrifying events of the past few days. 

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Oliver sat up and looked out across the ocean. The sky was overcast again, so the ocean looked like a merciless, ever-changing mass of iron-colored liquid, ready to rear up and strike at them if they dared enter it. Oliver shivered slightly and looked down at his girlfriend’s sleeping form. Even in sleep, Laurel’s expression was tight, as if she was being chased through her dreams; Oliver wouldn’t be surprised if it was something like that. Both had struggled with sleep in the past couple of days as they drifted, Robert’s body (for Oliver refused to call the man his father any longer) wrapped in the canvas of the shelter and a constant reminder of their near-murder at the hands of Robert Queen. 

Laurel began to stir, and Oliver watched as her eyes fluttered open, green orbs clouded briefly by sleep before sharpening. She turned to look at him. “It really happened, didn’t it?” she asked softly. 

Oliver sighed and nodded, scooting closer to her as she pulled herself into a sitting position, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We’re gonna be okay, Laurel,” he told her. “We’re gonna find a way home. You have to believe that.” 

**_*DC*_ **

“Why should I care?” Oliver asked, the stubborn set of his jaw telling Laurel that he was well-aware of why he should care about giving his father a proper burial but was going to hold onto his anger no matter what. She sighed, knowing that when Oliver got like this, the best option was to treat him like an obstinate two-year-old. That usually did the trick. 

“Because in the end, he was still your father, Ollie,” Laurel told him, taking his face in both hands and making her look him in the eyes: blue met green in a clash of wills. “I agree with you that the man who died on that raft isn’t your father, but that single moment of insanity doesn’t erase an entire lifetime of him being there for you and your sister. He deserves a proper burial for that, if nothing else.” 

Oliver held her gaze for a moment before sighing and lowering his gaze. “I just don’t understand,” he said quietly, and Laurel felt her heart break for him at how _hurt_ he sounded. “Why did he do that, Laurel? What was he talking about?” 

“I don’t know, Ollie, but the first thing we have to do is bury him, and then survive this place until we can get home,” Laurel said. “Come on. I’ll help you.” She took a few steps backward towards the raft, keeping one hand clasped in Oliver’s. 

_***DC*** _

Burying his father, Oliver had found a blank journal in the pocket of the cargo shorts Robert had worn, a blank journal that now rested in Oliver’s own cargo shorts as he and Laurel walked through the forest, heading further into the island to look for shelter, water, and food. Both were hungry, but kept moving through the forest, keeping an eye out for a place to make a semi-permanent home while they survived. 

The snap of branches and the like in the forest to the side had Laurel and Oliver turning. Relief flooded through them as they saw a group of black-clad men, perhaps paramilitary or mercenaries, heading in their direction. “Hey!” Oliver shouted, waving to the men. They turned and saw Oliver and began moving in their direction. Oliver turned and smiled at Laurel. “Looks like we’re going home soon,” he told her and turned back to the men, only for his smile to fade. He put himself between Laurel and the raised weapons. “Woah, woah, hey, there’s no need for that!” he shouted, raising his hands to show he had no weapon. 

“Who are you?” the man leading the group asked harshly, his weapon still aimed at Oliver and Laurel, as were those of his men. 

“M-my name’s Oliver Queen,” Oliver told the man. “This is my girlfriend. Our ship went down days ago. We made it here on a life raft. Listen, my family’s rich, _real_ rich. I’m sure you’d all get handsomely rewarded if we could just get a message to them. Do you have a satellite phone or anything like that?” 

“Our camp has a radio,” the man said. “Come on, we’ll lead you there. Try anything, and I’ll gut you both.” 

Oliver and Laurel fell into step behind the man. Two different sets of eyes watched the two young people walk off with the mercenaries, unaware of what may happen. Yao Fei, disgraced Chinese general, shook his head. He had hoped to intercept them before the mercenaries led by Edward Fyers found them; he would have given them basic survival knowledge, tried to help them escape, or failing that, sent them to Slade Wilson. 

Speaking of the A.S.I.S. agent, Slade watched the two kids get led towards Fyers’ camp and shook his head in disgust. Fyers and his men knew no bounds. A part of him wanted to chase after the patrol and take them out, to save the two kids, but he knew that all that would do would push the kids further towards Fyers’ end of things. They would see him as mad, insane, and a violent prisoner of the island. Better for them to discover Fyers’ true nature themselves, and then come to him or Yao Fei… assuming they lived past learning Fyers’ true nature. 

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver and Laurel were led through the camp, the mercenaries stationed in the camp eyeing them with surprise and suspicion. Oliver kept an arm around Laurel as she clung to him, his mind focused on both comforting her and coming up with what he was going to say to the mercenary commander. The leader of the unit they were following came to a stop outside of a large tent and turned to the two young castaways. “Wait here,” the man said firmly, and entered the tent. There was a tense minute as indistinct words could be heard inside the tent, and finally the man reappeared, opening the flap. He gestured to Oliver and Laurel. “Come in, but no sudden movements,” the unit commander told them. Oliver and Laurel shuffled inside and were guided to a pair of seats in front of a simple fold-up table that was serving as the desk for the man seated behind it. 

The man had a rumpled uniform as though he often slept in it, and his attitude and bearing seemed more that of a genial and affable uncle rather than the commander of a mercenary force. It was only his eyes, that did not hold the warmth of the smile he gave the two young castaways, that showed what kind of man he truly was. “Please, sit,” the man said as a pair of glasses were set in front of them, purified water being poured into the same. “You must have been through quite the ordeal already. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Edward Fyers. You’re rather fortunate my men found you when they did. There are a pair of men on this island who would not have been so kind.” 

“I’m Oliver Queen,” said the young billionaire after taking a sip of the water. Laurel had done the same, her eyes flitting about out of nerves. “This is my girlfriend, Laurel Lance. We were on my father’s yacht when a storm hit us. We’ve spent the past few days adrift, until yesterday. We just started exploring the island, trying to find a better shelter than what we had, when we saw your men. My family’s rich, Mr. Fyers. I’m sure my mother would pay handsomely if we could use your radio, or a satellite phone if you have it.” 

“I would most certainly look forward to such a payment, Mr. Queen,” Fyers told him. “However, the operation my men are currently involved in is quite sensitive, and if you are returned, the press will no doubt dig into how you were rescued. My employer would be… displeased if the operation were to get out. That said, we can certainly make your stay with us comfortable, though I would have to restrict your access to certain areas of the camp. Do you understand me, Mr. Queen? Miss Lance?” 

Oliver looked at Laurel, who nodded, and turned back to Fyers. “We understand,” Oliver told him quietly. “We just want to get home. We’ll do whatever you ask so we can do that.” 

Fyers nodded absently. “I’ll have my men set up a tent nearby. You’ll have food delivered as needed. For now, remain here. I must contact my employer and inform them of the situation.” At Oliver and Laurel’s assent to staying put, Fyers gave the two castaways a reassuring smile, which once again didn’t quite reach his eyes, before leaving the tent with one of his men to keep an eye on them. He was certain that they could use the castaways in some fashion to lure out Yao Fei or Slade Wilson, but he wanted to get the go ahead with his employer to do so. Queen and Lance were, after all, college kids of some sort, not particularly threatening. 

**_*DC*_ **

While they had eaten the beans and canned meat that had been brought to them while they waited for Fyers to return, Oliver and Laurel had both noted that more men had joined the man that had been set to watch them, and Laurel was beginning to feel a bit nervous from the way some of the men didn’t hide their eying her up and down. Oliver had noted as well and was tensing for a confrontation. After what seemed to be a long, tense hour but was truly only ten minutes, one of the men moved over to them. He placed a hand on Laurel’s shoulder, and she tensed. 

“It’s okay,” the man said in what he likely believed to be a soothing tone. “I’m Chad. What’s your name?” Laurel kept silent, and the man sighed. “Look, your names will be around the camp in no time. What’s the harm in telling me your name now?” 

“You can wait to find out our names,” Oliver said roughly. 

“Now, you might want to tone down the aggression there,” the soldier, Chad, told him. “We might be neighbors for a while, and you don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, now do you?” 

Laurel set a hand on Oliver’s knee as he moved to answer back, and her eyes flashed a warning to not push it with these men. Oliver, grudgingly, didn’t say anything further. Instead, in a tired but firm voice, his girlfriend said, “I’m Laurel. This is Oliver.” 

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Chad said graciously. “May I say, Miss Laurel, that you are quite pleasing to the eye. Have you and Oliver been together long?” 

“Four years,” Laurel said quietly. “We’ve known each other even longer. Most of our lives, in fact.” 

“Hmm, but only been together four years? Doesn’t sound like you thought him much of a prize until then,” Chad said. “What changed?” 

Laurel eyed the man with a growing distaste. She had had this conversation more than once. Oliver wasn’t exactly known for his athleticism, despite both being in decent shape. As a result, some of the more athletically-inclined men at her university had tried to convince her they were the right catch, only to prove themselves far more odious than Oliver had been, even at the height of his partying. “Sorry, but I don’t pick my partners based on the size of their muscles or penis,” she told the man. “I pick them on the size of their heart, and I’ll take my party-boy boyfriend over a heartless mercenary whose only care is for his paycheck.” 

Oliver groaned softly as the air seemed to thicken with tension, and then he was sent ass over tea kettle as Chad backhanded him, sending his chair toppling backwards, and two of his buddies seized Laurel by her arms, dragging her out of her seat. As Oliver scrambled to his feet, he noticed their guard had left the tent, and now it was just Chad and his two buddies. As Chad began undoing his belt over Laurel’s cries for him to stop, Oliver once more felt the adrenalin rush through his system that he had felt when he fought with his father. Lurching forward, Oliver collided with Chad and tried to put him in a sleeper hold, though he’d only seen it done in movies. The mercenary grabbed his arm and threw him over his shoulder, and Oliver landed on the ground beside Laurel. 

Oliver lashed out at the man holding down Laurel’s right arm, catching him in his face. As Laurel’s hand was freed, she reared to her left, delivering a right cross to the remaining soldier, and Oliver rolled out of the way as Chad tried to stomp down on him. Rolling to his feet, Oliver leaped forward, trying to tackle Chad and pull him further from Laurel. Chad lashed out with a kick, catching Oliver in the chest before he even made it to the man, and Oliver toppled to the ground, wheezing. 

Before anything more could happen between the castaways and the three soldiers, Fyers returned with their initial guard and a masked man whose mask was half-gold, half-black, split evenly down the middle. He wore a pair of swords strapped to his back, and a bandolier around his chest held grenades. “What is going on here?” Fyers said frostily. “The guard I placed on Mr. Queen and Miss Lance informed me that you three entered and tried to bribe him with rations to leave you to ‘have some fun’ with Miss Lance. Luckily, he has more loyalty to me than rations can buy, which is more than can be said for you. Mr. Wintergreen, if you would?” 

The man with the swords, presumably Mr. Wintergreen, unsheathed his wicked-looking blades. Even as Chad and his compatriots cowered and attempted to plead for their lives, Wintergreen stalked forward, skewering Chad with one blade while removing his head with another. Blood spurted from the cut arteries as the body fell, and Oliver and Laurel were hit even as they scurried away, low to the ground in case Wintergreen accidentally registered them as targets. 

Quick flicks of his blades at the two kneeling soldiers opened their throats and they pitched forward, bodies shuddering as blood pooled around their bodies, spreading across the plastic bottom of the tent. “Thank you, as always, for an efficient job, Mr. Wintergreen,” Fyers said calmly as the man sheathed his blades and Oliver exchanged alarmed looks with a frightened Laurel, who was shaking from the near-miss at being raped she had just experienced. She had known women who were raped at frat parties, one of the reasons she had kept herself from drinking too much at those parties to begin with, but while she had done her best to comfort them, she hadn’t truly _known_ what it was like to experience the fear that rushed through her body at the thought of being attacked like that. 

“A pleasure, Mr. Fyers,” Wintergreen said coolly, his first words since coming into the tent. His accent placed him as coming from Australia, while Fyers was more British in accent, and Chad had had an American one, mid-Western perhaps. What kind of mercenary company was this? Wintergreen departed the tent as several more soldiers entered and began pulling the bodies out of the tent. Only two remained afterward: the initial guard and one other. 

Fyers eyed the two young castaways with a bit more curiosity now. “While I’m glad they were unable to harm you, I am curious at the fact you managed to keep them busy,” Fyers told them. “Miss Lance, these gentlemen will escort you to where another female guest of ours is currently living,” he gestured to the men beside him. “Mr. Queen and I will rejoin you shortly. I promise no harm shall befall you, as I’ve made certain people know that you, like our other female guest, are under the protection of Mr. Wintergreen. The rest of my men avoid angering Mr. Wintergreen, for good reason.” 

Laurel shot a frightened look at Oliver, who looked between the two guards and Fyers. On the one hand, he wasn’t sure he trusted Fyers’ men to not try something with Laurel; but on the other hand, Fyers had ordered three of his men executed for attempting to rape Laurel in the first place, and the man that carried it out did seem to hold the fear of the men. Oliver gave Laurel a comforting grin and said, “Don’t worry, Laurel. I think Mr. Fyers is being honest. If not,” Oliver’s voice grew cold, “well, I don’t think I’ll have much trouble pulling the trigger with these men. Not after killing my father to keep you safe.” 

Fyers’ expression briefly took on a look of approval before going back to the genial look he had. Laurel went with the men, shooting nervous looks back at Oliver, and Oliver turned to face the mercenary commander, adopting a neutral expression he had seen his mother utilize dozens of times. “What is it you want, Mr. Fyers?” Oliver asked, his tone flat and emotionless. 

“You and your girlfriend have shown a rather interesting willingness to fight for one another,” Fyers told him. “I need someone with that kind of drive to help me finish this mission, and you want to get home as soon as you can. We can help one another, Mr. Queen. If you help us flush out the two men we seek, this mission will be wrapped up soon enough and you and Miss Lance can be on your way home.” 

Oliver eyed the man carefully. He wasn’t the best at judging when someone was deceiving him, but it seemed like the man in front of him was telling the truth. “If I were to help you, I’d need to know what I had to do before I agreed,” Oliver said firmly. “And I’d need to know Laurel will remain safe from harm.” 

“Miss Lance will be under my personal protection, and as a result, under the protection of Mr. Wintergreen, for the duration of your stay with us,” Fyers told him. “As for what you would be doing: there are two men on this island who are not a member of our operation. The first, Yao Fei, has a part to play. It is not something you need to be aware of, Mr. Queen,” he added when Oliver moved to ask what part it was. “Irritating though he might be, he must be taken alive. The second man can be taken alive if you can manage, seeing as he and Mr. Wintergreen have some unfinished business, but if you must kill him, do so. His name is Slade Wilson; a solo operative hired to disrupt my mission here.” 

Oliver considered what he’d been told. “How do you expect me to take on either of these men?” he asked. 

“You will be taught basic survival skills, and then expelled from the camp,” Fyers told him. “Yao Fei and Slade Wilson both fancy themselves good men. They will wish to help you. Accept their help, earn their trust, and then strike.” 


	3. Arrow S2 Rewrite

Oliver Queen finished his morning run through the forest of Lian Yu, expertly dodging around the landmines laced around the island by the Chinese during World War II. It had been five months since the Undertaking had collapsed half of the Glades in Starling City, and for all of those five months, save the time it had taken to bury his sister, who had died as a result of the events of that night, he had been here. This was where he belonged, serving out his sentence in the hell that had forged him, not poisoning those that he cared for. An image flashed through his mind of a woman with dyed brown hair, green eyes, and a smile that could light up the room and which certainly lightened the burden on his soul, but he ruthlessly shoved down the feelings that rose up as Laurel Lance’s smiling face hovered before him in his mind’s eye.

Oliver slowed as he approached the fuselage, where he was staying. Something was off; he could sense it. Moving cautiously into the fuselage, he found himself staring at a black arrow with red tints on the edges that was pinning a single sheet of paper, no, parchment to the table he ate his meals at. Oliver approached it slowly, eyes sharp and looking for signs of a trap. Finally, he plucked the arrow out of the table and picked up the parchment. There were only two words written on it: _The monastery._ Oliver sighed, recognizing the flowing cursive script as belonging to one of his former instructors, the very one, in fact, who had sent him back to Starling City; and she was not a woman who was trifled with or ignored. Oliver packed up a water bottle and then began the journey towards the center of the island and the monastery that he had seen only once before.

It took him nearly two hours of hiking through the forest, including a detour around a wide stream, but Oliver finally found himself at the base of the monastery’s steps, which was guarded by two black clad figures, who watched him with their hands on their swords. Oliver refused to tense up, recognizing them as the advance guard. He walked up the steps of the monastery and found her waiting for him in front of the doors. “Hello, Talia,” he greeted softly.

Talia al Ghul, rogue daughter of the Demon’s Head and mistress of the League of Shadows, inclined her head in greeting and then motioned for Oliver to follow her as she turned and entered the monastery. Oliver did as she requested, finding himself walking just behind and to the right of her. “I find myself disturbed, Oliver, a state of being rare to one such as me,” Talia said quietly. “I sent you back to Starling City to fight against the corruption there, and yet now I find you hiding away on this island while your city suffers from not only the continued corruption left in the wake of Malcolm Merlyn’s attack, but a crime wave that has rocked the entire city. Your city needs its guardian back.”

“I _failed_ , Talia,” Oliver replied. “Don’t you see that? I had one thought, one goal in all those years: to return home and fulfill my father’s dying wish. I learned from everyone I could: I learned how to interrogate and torture from Amanda Waller, how to build devices I eventually streamlined into my arrows from Anatoli Knyasev, learned how to become a living weapon from you, Slade, and Yao Fei. And now? Now my city is in ruins, my best friend sees me as his father’s shadow, the woman I love doesn’t know what to think of me, my mother is in prison, and my sister is dead. How can I go back there and take up the bow again when I failed to stop what was coming?”

“Because, Oliver, this was never about Malcolm Merlyn and his Undertaking,” Talia replied sharply, causing Oliver’s head to snap around in surprise. “There is so much more at stake here than the actions of a single man, no matter how monstrous those actions are. There is a war going on beneath the troubled surface of the world, Oliver, a war that has been waged for centuries between my father and the founder of H.I.V.E., Damien Darhk. A war that I tried to walk away from, the same way you have in coming to this island, and in return I had to bury the man that I loved.” Talia stopped, and Oliver followed suit, looking at her.

This was not the calm, collected woman that had trained Oliver so diligently while laying low in Russia. Her dark eyes were shimmering slightly but she was refusing to allow the tears to fall, forcing her voice to remain even as she continued, “I do not mean to diminish your losses, Oliver, but to help you understand that exiling yourself here isn’t going to see those you still care about kept safe. It will, in fact, see them further endangered, for they will have no protector in Starling to combat the forces of H.I.V.E. and the League of Assassins as they continue their ancient battle.”

Oliver met Talia’s dark gaze. “Why did you choose me? Was it convenience, since I was already a Starling native? Or was there something else that led you to pull me out of Gregor’s clutches that day?”

Talia was silent for a moment as she studied Oliver for a moment. After a lengthy silence, which almost made Oliver regret his bold question to his teacher, Talia finally spoke again. “I chose you, because you remind me very much of my Beloved,” Talia said quietly. “He, too, was the scion of a wealthy family who learned how cruel and unforgiving this world can be. He, too, traveled the world and learned how to fight injustice, even apprenticing under my father for a time during a darker period of his life. He, too, cared deeply for his city and fought against the evil that was choking it. He was a skilled and cunning warrior, with an intellect unmatched by anyone I’ve had the pleasure of meeting save perhaps my father and you, though you choose to hide your true potential for the sake of those you bring into your world. But he had one fatal flaw, my Beloved, one weakness that, having witnessed your crusade through my agents, I fear that you share. He was unwilling to do all that is necessary to end a threat.”

“I killed Malcolm, and others before him,” Oliver said quietly.

“But spared a great many more,” Talia rebuked. “Instead of taking their lives as you rightly should have, you took their wealth or provided a corrupt and inept police department with the evidence, hand-feeding them victories they were quick to claim as their own when in fact it is you who should have been praised, you who should have been lauded. Like my Beloved, you slink away into the shadows, hiding your true self even from those you care for most.”

“What happened to him?” Oliver asked quietly.

“As I said, I believed for a time that I could walk away from it all,” Talia replied softly. “I left my students, left my father, left my very birthright behind and joined my Beloved. H.I.V.E. learned that I was no longer under the protection of my father and came for me. We were surprised while on holiday, a holiday I had convinced my Beloved to join me on despite his strong protestations that it was unsafe. I survived the attack, but not before one of H.I.V.E.’s assassins had pierced his heart with a blade. I killed the assassin with the very same blade and held my Beloved close as he faded away, swearing I would avenge him by ending this war. I returned to my students and formed the League of Shadows, and ever since I have fought against the machinations of both Damien Darhk and Ra’s al Ghul.”

Student and master were silent as Oliver digested the revelations that Talia had bestowed upon him, revelations that she likely would never have shared if not to illustrate for him that the war he was trying to avoid would still come for those he cared about and it was only a question of if he would be there to stand against the shadows that needed to be answered. Oliver thought of everything he had already lost, but he also thought of Tommy, who he still considered his brother even though Tommy despised him and thought him no better than Malcolm had been; he thought of Laurel, images flashing through his mind of the sweet girl with honey-blonde hair who had befriended him on her first day at Berlanti Preparatory and the fiery, opinionated woman she had grown into, a woman who he loved with all his soul; he thought of all of the people in the Glades who were suffering the aftermath of Merlyn’s attack and of the crime wave Talia had told him was taking place. Finally, he looked up. “I’m going back.”

Talia nodded, as though she had never doubted this outcome, and master and student put their heads together to discuss Oliver’s return. **_*1*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Tommy Merlyn grunted as he was tossed onto his stomach on a cold stone floor in what he could only describe as a medieval grand hall; on either side of him were warriors dressed in the same kind of outfit his father had worn in his confrontation with Oliver’s alter ego. He could hear the sound of bubbling water, like a hot spring, nearby. His body was aching from whatever had been pumped into him by the men who had jumped him in one of his family’s properties in Corto Maltese, where he had taken refuge from the world’s reactions to what his father had done in Starling City five months ago. Strong hands gripped his arms and pulled him up into a kneeling position, and Tommy found himself facing a throne upon which sat a Middle Eastern man with graying black hair. Beside the man stood a woman, also of Middle Eastern descent, who looked upon Tommy as though he were a disgusting bug that had crossed her path.

“Thomas Merlyn,” the man on the throne spoke. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” Tommy rasped, his mouth and throat dry.

“I am Ra’s al Ghul, and my men have brought you here, to Nanda Parbat, to stand and account for the actions of your father, as per the code of the League of Assassins,” the robed man replied.

_Nanda Parbat._ The name flashed through Tommy’s mind, bringing him back to that night that Oliver had saved his father’s life, likely unaware that he had just saved the life of the man he had fought at Christmas. “My father told me that he found a path here, that someone gave him a purpose after my mother’s death,” Tommy said quietly. “You’re him, aren’t you? The one who taught my father, who gave him a purpose?” Ra’s inclined his head and Tommy fought the hands holding him down, but his captors were resolute and unmoving. “Then you’re the one who should be on his knees to face judgment, not me,” Tommy snapped. “You’re the one who took my father and turned him into a deluded psychopath. Did you get my best friend, too? Did you send him to deal with _your_ mistake?”

A hush fell over all in the room as Ra’s stood and descended the steps from where the throne rested slowly. Tommy felt as though something had formed in his throat, making it difficult to breathe. The Demon’s Head came to a stop in front of Tommy, gripping his chin and forcing him to look into his dark, emotionless eyes. Tommy had heard people say that sharks had soulless eyes when you looked at them; if ever there was a shark in human form, it was the man before him. Ra’s finally allowed Tommy’s chin to drop, then reared back and back-handed Tommy across the face with the hand upon which the Ring of the Demon rested. The Ring’s sharpened edge caught Tommy’s cheek, ripping a deep gouge in the young man’s flesh. Tommy couldn’t help the cry of pain nor the tears that followed.

Ra’s looked upon the child of Merlyn with disgust. _This_ was what Merlyn had fought so hard to get back to? This useless lump? He wasn’t even worth killing. Ra’s looked to the man that held Tommy down on the right, Al-Owal. “Bring him to the edge of death, but only just. We will see if there is something worthwhile in the son that didn’t exist in the father.” Al-Owal bowed and, with the aid of his fellow assassin, dragged the shouting son of Merlyn away. Ra’s returned to his throne.

“Father, surely you don’t think training him if he survives is wise?” Nyssa replied. “Al Sa-Her was just as harmless-seeming and afraid of pain when he came to us all those years ago, and yet we see what he became. Perhaps there is a sickness that lays in the bloodline, as none of our other acolytes have shown such a depravity.”

“Perhaps,” Ra’s agreed. “And if such a sickness lies in the bloodline, we shall purge it accordingly.” **_*2*_**

**_*DC*_ **

The sound of impacts on a punching bag filled the otherwise silent gym. Only two figures were present in the room. The first was an older man with dark hair fading to grayish-silver, who was holding the punching bag steady for his student. Wiry and built for quick dodges and equally quick strikes, Ted Grant was a man who had lived in the Glades his whole life, and at one time even fought for it from behind a mask. But those days were over. Now, his entire focus was on training his protégé, who happened to be the daughter of an old friend and an honorary niece of his: Dinah Laurel Lance.

Laurel herself was dressed in a tank top and jogging bottoms, sweat glistening on her bare, tanned skin as she worked out her frustrations on the bag in front of her. Her hair, once more it’s natural honey-blonde color, was carefully pulled into a ponytail that ended just above her shoulder blades. She delivered punches and kicks, alternating which side she attacked from as she thought over the hell of the last five months since Malcolm Merlyn had unleashed terror beyond imagining on the people of Starling City out of some twisted revenge on those he blamed for his wife’s death nearly twenty years earlier.

The Hood hadn’t been seen since the night of the Undertaking, where a security camera had caught his arrival and departure from Merlyn Global. Most people, Laurel included, had concluded that he had attempted to aid people in leaving one of the collapsing buildings and been crushed by debris as the building completed its collapse. In the five months since, crime had risen sharply, and not just in the Glades. Organized crime families had further consolidated their power both in the Glades and downtown, and newer crime lords were carving out their own fiefdoms and pressing downtown for a cut of their profits. That was in addition to the general thievery and attempts at human trafficking that had risen sharply over the summer. One of the reasons Laurel was taking self-defense from Uncle Ted was because she had nearly been grabbed while walking to her car.

Throughout all of this, Laurel ached with worry for her two best friends, Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen. Both men had left the city after Thea’s funeral, Tommy to escape the ever-present rage the city held towards anyone bearing the names Merlyn and Queen, and Oliver for reasons he hadn’t been willing to share beyond grief. Laurel sighed as she recalled their night of passion the night before the Undertaking. She had thought things would be different; Oliver had even promised her things would be different. But then he had left with barely a word, and she was left unsure how to feel about their night together. She had no idea where Oliver was, and her heart ached at the possibility that he was somewhere that he hadn’t heard the news that his mother had been killed by inmates at Slabside Penitentiary, where she was being held over until trial for her role in the Undertaking. Oliver was the last of his family, and Laurel could only hope he had had _someone_ with him when he heard the news.

“Still thinking of your friends?” Ted asked knowingly.

“I’m worried about them,” Laurel admitted as she delivered a couple of quick punches to the bag in front of her. “Last I heard from Tommy he was still in Corto Maltese, but I called his house down there and got nothing. Not even a housekeeper. And I haven’t heard _anything_ from Ollie since he left.”

“Still hung up on the Queen punk, huh?” Ted asked. Laurel gave him a half-hearted glare and he held his hands up placatingly. “Hey, I just don’t wanna keep hearing your Dad complain. Though according to him your tastes haven’t improved much since you were getting involved with that Hood guy.”

“He was helping the city, which is more than the cops are managing to do,” Laurel replied grouchily. “As far as I’m concerned, the hope this city was beginning to have died with him that night.”

Ted shook his head slightly but began coaching Laurel on timing her punches and kicks and how to keep balance while doing it. **_*3*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver Queen entered the empty shell that was Verdant. Knowing he wouldn’t be around to manage it, Oliver had shuttered the place before his departure, and there was a thick layer of dust on everything. Oliver headed for the door to the basement and punched in the code, pulling the door open with a creak of metal. He winced and made mental note to oil the hinges when he got the chance. Oliver descended the stairs into the darkness of the Foundry and found the switch for the light. He pushed it up and the grim lighting he had installed flickered on, his eyes noting the sheet covering the computers. Oliver walked over to the computer desk and took the seat in front of the computer, pulling the sheet off and booting it up.

The computer cycled through its start-up while Oliver opened the battered journal containing the List and decided he would start with something _simple_ to warm-up. He had learned that the more deeply-entrenched names tended to be in the middle and back of the journal while simpler names like Adam Hunt’s were at the front. Oliver selected one name on the List, Daniel Hollinger, and began looking him up. Hollinger was in the news frequently due to his get rich quick schemes putting dozens of low-income families on the streets, something that was a worse fate than ever in the months since the Undertaking. Oliver dug into Hollinger, his habits and the security around his home. Once that was done, Oliver stood and moved to the crate, crouching down and opening it. From within, he drew Shado’s bow and the familiar uniform of The Hood.

**_*DC*_ **

Whistling to himself, Daniel Hollinger entered his apartment, ready to spend another night wooing some of the more pliable of the opposite sex online. If you made enough, they didn't care how much of an asshole you were, and Hollinger had long ago decided that he wasn't going to let himself get involved with anyone seriously because that was just too much risk. These days, with all these feminist types running the show, he'd be lucky to end up with a dime to his name. Still, it wasn't a complete loss not having to deal with the stress of having a family.

Hollinger's thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the hardwood floor in his kitchen. Before he could turn, he heard a _twang_ and then a _thwift_ , and then pain blossomed as an arrow cut through his calf and exited between his shinbones. He screamed and fell to the ground as The Hood entered his line of vision. Hollinger gripped the shaft of the arrow with shaking hands. “You’re supposed to be dead!” he wailed.

“ **I was dead,** ” The Hood replied coldly. “ **But the devil spat me back out of hell. Daniel Hollinger, you have _failed_ this city. You prey on those who are desperate to turn their lives around, Hollinger, ensuring they can never pay back the debts they owe you and then you squeeze them for more. You're going to transfer twenty million dollars into Starling City Liberty Trust Account 1141. You have twenty-four hours. After that, I’m going to just take it, and you won't like how I do it.**”

The Hood vanished, and Hollinger was left weeping on the floor. He began crawling towards the cordless phone sitting on a nightstand, leaving a bloody trail behind him. Fuck Starling City, he was getting the hell outta Dodge. Metropolis or Central City, maybe? **_*4*_**

**_*DC*_ **

The Hood raced along the rooftops of the Glades, leaping between buildings and seeking out any sounds of crime. His mission now _had_ to be about more than just the names on the List. It had to be about fighting the crime wave that had taken hold in Starling and sending a message to the crime lords that the time they had free reign was over. The Hood came to a stop on a roof overlooking Russo’s, where he had gone to dinner with Helena Bertinelli last year. A group of mafiosos was just leaving it, no doubt having shaken down the owner and his daughter the way Nick Salvati had tried before Helena and The Hood had stopped him. The Hood rained arrows down on the mafiosos, piercing legs, arms, and in two cases stomachs, crippling the mafiosos. He fired a zipline arrow and landed in a crouch. Approached the man who seemed to have the same air about him that Nick Salvati had had. “ **These shakedowns end tonight,** ” The Hood growled.

“Go fuck yourself!” the mafioso gasped, band clenched around the shaft of the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. The Hood grabbed the shaft and twisted the arrow. The mafioso gave an agonized scream.

“ **Tell whoever is giving you orders now that I’m back, and I take a dim view of this sort of activity,** ” The Hood replied. “ **If they don’t want to end up like Malcolm Merlyn, they’ll end this nonsense.** ” The Hood released the mafioso and let him fall to the ground before firing a grappling arrow and ascending to another rooftop. He began his circuit back to Verdant, intending to take care of any crime he found along the way.

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver entered the Foundry and began to undress, thinking over the night’s work. He had stopped three different muggings, six rape attempts, and two bodega robberies. On top of dealing with Hollinger and sending a message to whoever was running the Bertinelli crew, that wasn’t too bad for one night’s work. Oliver dressed back in his street clothes and checked the time. It was almost seven a.m. He had been out all night. He could either head to the Queen Mansion for a few hours of sleep, or he could go see Laurel; she would probably already be up at her apartment, getting ready for the day. Oliver checked the account he had given Hollinger and found the money had been deposited into the account like he had asked. He smiled grimly. At least The Hood still had a reputation that kept scum like Hollinger scared for their lives if they didn’t do what he demanded.

To see Laurel now, or to wait until he had had some sleep and call her like a normal… whatever he was to her. Friend? Lover? He didn’t think he counted as a boyfriend considering they had slept together, he had promised things would be different, and then he had taken off. For all he knew, she would slap him on sight. Oliver sighed. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t deserve it for promising things would be different and then bailing on her, regardless of how understandable his reasons were. He would also need to reach out to Felicity and Dig, see if they were willing to join him again. Dig likely would, but Felicity had originally signed on just until Walter was found and stuck around in the initial aftermath because of the threat posed to the city. But the Undertaking was done; there was nothing beholding Felicity to working with him again. And he could handle things on his own if need be. **_*5*_**

He would wait, he decided; he was still jet-lagged and needed some sleep. Oliver left the lair, shutting the lights down, and returned to his Ducati, which had been waiting at the airport in the long-term parking when he returned. It was time to go home, empty and lifeless though the mansion might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* There was so much story potential with Talia al Ghul and, like everything else the Arrowverse showrunners have touched, they squandered it.
> 
> *2* Tommy mouthing off to Ra’s is something that I can see happening.
> 
> *3* Laurel getting back on her game and learning more than just basic self-defense is, of course, the first step towards her taking the mantle of Black Canary.
> 
> *4* Written a few different ways the Hollinger thing plays out and I think this is my personal favorite.
> 
> *5* Felicity is definitely not gonna sign on again. She was there to save Walter and she’s done that. Diggle? I’m not so sure about. If he’s not an Olicity cheerleader I can almost do it with him.


	4. The Promethean Agenda

Thea Queen, dressed in a form-fitting black dress, descended the stairs at the societal function, meeting Captain Franklin Pike on the landing. “Your brother’s late,” Pike told her.

“Late is his on time,” Thea quipped. “And he’s not just my brother, he’s the mayor.”

“Well, maybe someone should remind him of that,” Pike replied.

Thea gave a sigh and asked, with just a little dose of sarcasm, “Is there something I can help you with, Captain?”

“This evening is important, Miss Queen,” Pike reminded her, “and it’s supposed to be the kickoff to the Anti-Crime Initiative, and I don’t think I need to tell you how much this city-”

“City needs the A.C.I.,” Thea finished. “Yes, I know, and so does he, so he will be here. He’s just taking care of a little business first.”

“Blonde or redhead?” Pike asked dryly.

Thea gave a huff of amusement. “Brunette, actually,” she said, thinking of the brunette in question, who had had a twisted fixation on her last year. Whatever Ollie did to him, it wasn’t enough.

**_*DC*_ **

Elsewhere in the city, at a building under construction, Green Arrow was tangling with Anarky, driving him back with each blow, doing his best to knock the bastard out so he could get back to the bomb and deploy the special arrow that would allow Overwatch to hack the bomb and shut it down. Green Arrow flipped ANarky over on his back and began brutally beating him, the force of his blows along with their combined weight sending them crashing through the floor to the level below. When they finally came to a stop, Anarky was out cold. Green Arrow turned from the unconscious man, spotting the bomb, and activated his comms. “ **I found the bomb,** ” he informed Overwatch.

At the Bunker, Overwatch, aka Felicity Smoak, was looking at the bomb through the camera mounted on Green Arrow’s uniform. “No, no, no, that’s not _a_ bomb, that’s one, two, three, _four_ bombs.”

Back at the construction site, Green Arrow sensed an attack coming and dodged as Anarky came at him from behind with a pair what looked like miniature scythes. Green Arrow dodged the attacks, blocking those he couldn’t dodge with his bow. Green Arrow flipped, firing a specialized arrow that Overwatch could use to begin disarming the bomb. “I’m in the brains,” she reported. “It’s going to take a while to disarm. Do you think you can keep Machim busy?”

Green Arrow, who was currently being strangled from behind by Anarky, ground out, “ **I don’t think that’ll be a problem.** ” Green Arrow twisted Anarky’s arm and then threw him against a nearby pillar, disarming him in the process. Anarky clambered to his feet, one hand on the pillar for support, and Green Arrow drove an arrow through his wrist, pinning him to the pillar. Anarky gave a grunt of pain at that.

“Does this mean you’re not gonna kill me?” Anarky demanded to know, sounding disappointed. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a little love? I only tried blowing up the city. I mean, half of it.” Green Arrow responded by knocking Anarky out with a single blow.

“ **Sleep,** ” he muttered. He contacted Overwatch. “ **Tell S.C.P.D. that I left a present for them.** ” He turned around to check on the bomb and found, to his annoyance, the run-and-gunner in a jersey and hockey mask messing around with the bomb. “ **Get away from that!** ” he barked in annoyance, knowing the slightest miscalculation on the other vigilante’s part could mean the bomb exploding and blowing a hole in the city.

“I’m disarming it,” the hockey mask protested. Green Arrow marched over and grabbed the hockey mask, throwing him off to the side.

“ **It’s handled,** ” Green Arrow replied coldly before activating his comms. “ **Overwatch?** ”

“Yeah,” Overwatch said gleefully. “Oh, man, that thing’s just a really ugly piece of modern art now.” As she said this, the bomb deactivated, leaving it just as she said. “Aw, you going to make a new friend?” she asked, referring to the hockey mask and implying the thing she had been pushing him on for a while now, the idea of forming a new team.

Green Arrow said nothing but threw the standing vigilante against the pillar. “ **I thought I told you to stay off the streets,** ” he snarled.

“It’s my city, too!” the hockey mask replied.

“ **You want to help?** ” Green Arrow asked softly.

“Yeah,” the hockey mask replied.

“ **Then make a donation to the police department,** ” Green Arrow replied. “ **And keep that elevated…** ” He turned and began walking away.

“Keep _what_ elevated?” the hockey mask asked incredulously. Green Arrow responded by turning and firing an arrow through the hockey mask’s leg. The hockey mask gave a scream of pain.

“ **I don’t want to see you out here again!** ” Green Arrow snarled at him. **_*1*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Back at the police function, Thea was speaking to a crowd of anxious reporters and city councilors. “The mayor will be making his official statement on the Anti-Crime Initiative at the ceremony dedicating the new housing projects in the Glades, but-”

“But he can say a few words now,” Oliver said from the landing where Thea had met Pike earlier, buttoning his tuxedo. “The A.C.I. is an important step towards lowering crime in the city, but I’m not going to consider it without some major reform.”

“What type of reforms?” asked a reporter.

“Uh, to start, an investigation into allegations of widespread corruption within the police department,” Oliver said, for this was a major issue of his from everything that had gone on these past four years. The police department had proved time and again that they were easily purchased by the highest bidder.

“Okay,” Thea said, drawing attention to her, “Mayor Queen will elaborate on all comments at the ceremony dedicating the new housing projects. Thank you all very much for coming.” Thea headed up the stairs and met Oliver, the two of them heading up the next set of stairs together. “You realize you _just_ accused the police department of being corrupt _at_ the police department gala?” she asked her brother.

“I answered a question,” Oliver said simply.

“Yeah, and you also just put blame on the police department instead of taking responsibility for the city’s crime,” Thea replied.

“You know I’m taking responsibility,” Oliver reminded her.

“Yes, as the _other_ guy, but as the Mayor, it looks like you’re sleepwalking, okay?” Thea said, trying to get her point across to her brother, who was one of the two most stubborn people Thea had ever known. The other lay in a coma at Starling General, for which Oliver blamed himself. “Showing up late _again_ is not helping that perception.”

Oliver sighed. “I know, Speedy,” he said quietly. “I’m trying to balance my two worlds, but sometimes one has to take precedence over the other, and sometimes I feel I do more as ‘the other guy’ than I do as the mayor.” **_*2*_**

Thea’s expression softened at that. “And it doesn’t help that you thought she’d be by your side when you were doing this,” she said quietly.

“Felicity’s helping with things,” Oliver said, purposely misunderstanding his sister’s comment.

Thea gave him a pitying gaze. “You know that’s not who I’m talking about,” she said. “You kept holding off on picking a D.A., hoping she would wake up. The City Council had to force you to pick one, remember? Did you even meet the guy before you picked him?” Oliver was silent. “Ollie, it’s okay to admit that you miss her. I don’t know what it is that the two of you talked about while you were alone, but I know it’s been affecting you since she slipped into a coma.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Oliver said quietly, and slipped away, grabbing a flute of champagne. Thea watched him, a pang in her chest. Her brother was hurting because his last remaining best friend, who happened to also be his ex-girlfriend, had been in a coma for six months. Thea knew her brother, and she knew that he was throwing himself into his work as Green Arrow not because he could do more as the vigilante than as the mayor, but because being Green Arrow made him feel closer to Laurel Lance. They had spent a lot of time training together after he and Felicity broke up, and Thea recognized now, even if she didn’t then, that the two of them had begun circling one another, even if it was just unconsciously. But what she wouldn’t give to know what Laurel and he had talked about the night her friend had slipped into a coma, because whatever it was, it was eating Oliver up inside.

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver returned to the Bunker to find Curtis Holt there with Felicity. “What are you two doing here?” he asked. “It’s late.”

“That’s what I told her,” Curtis said. “But she’s been complaining that the secondary processor keeps overclocking the GPU cache.”

“Must be nice to have someone down here who speaks Felicity,” Oliver said blandly. The last thing he wanted was Felicity being overly frustrated and taking it out on him because he wasn’t an M.I.T. graduate like she was, as she had when they were searching for Ray and countless other times before that when something technological had frustrated her and she had made sniping comments about his intelligence. Curtis could at least ‘sympathize’ in a way Oliver never could have.

“Well, I’m strictly repair and maintenance,” Curtis replied. “You guys are the vigilantes.”

“Yeah, well it’s getting to be an awfully big club,” Felicity said, holding up a file.

“What’s this?” Oliver asked, recognizing Felicity wanted him to take the file.

“A little dossier on Wild Dog,” Felicity replied smartly.

“Wild Dog?” Oliver repeated, bemused.

“Yeah, you know, because of the shirt,” Felicity said.

“And here I thought it was because of his run-and-gun methods,” Oliver said dryly as he opened the file.

“Silly Dog just didn’t have the same ring to it,” Felicity said.

“I suggested the ‘wild’,” Curtis added.

“Right,” Oliver said slowly, looking at the two of them warily. He had a sneaking suspicion what this was about and why Felicity was _really_ here so late, since she typically wasn’t here when he did a late-night patrol seeing as those were so commonplace and nothing major ever happened. “And why do I need a dossier on him?”

“I was thinking,” Felicity began, “instead of putting an _arrow_ in him, you might consider bringing him into the fold.”

“He _shot_ him?” Curtis asked in surprise before turning to look at Oliver. “You _shot_ him?”

“Okay, I know it’s not the most enticing of recruitment pitch plans,” Felicity said, standing and beginning to make hand gestures as Oliver closed the file, resigned to listening to yet another sales pitch about why it was time to recruit a new team, “but there are plenty of candidates willing to compensate for our ineffectual/corrupt police department.” Felicity pointed to the screen, where a picture of Wild Dog was joined by that of a teenager who had gone on a revenge-killing spree last year, just after Laurel had slipped into a coma. She had killed Alex, Oliver’s former campaign manager, and nearly killed Ruve Adams. “Evelyn Sharp,” Felicity said. “Mr. _Ski Goggles,_ still work-shopping that codename.”

“I’m not-I’m not putting together a new team,” Oliver said plainly, handing the file on Wild Dog back to Felicity.

“Okay, well, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re a little short-handed,” Felicity pointed out.

“Just for a little while,” Oliver replied. “John will come back. Thea will come back. Laurel will wake up.”

“And if they don’t?” Felicity asked. “I’m sorry, but John is in the military for at least another year, Thea is having a crisis of conscience, and while I want Laurel to wake up as much as you do, we both know the longer her coma lasts the less likely she is to come out of it. So, what happens if what you hope doesn’t happen?”

“Then I will handle it,” Oliver replied. “Get some sleep. Both of you.” Oliver turned and headed off of the computer platform, leaving a disappointed Felicity and a commiserating Curtis.

**_*DC*_ **

At a warehouse elsewhere in Star City, a criminal crew were counting up their cash when they heard shouts from outside. “S.C.P.D.! We have you surrounded! Guns on the floor now!” One of the thugs turned and pointed his weapon at the approaching officers. Seeing he was outnumbered, the thug placed his gun on the ground, eyeing the bodies that were being dragged in by other cops warily. “What is this?” the man asked. “These aren’t our guys!”

“No,” said the oldest cop (and the man with his hands raised was now beginning to think that these weren’t cops at all, or if they were, they were dirty). “They’re Los Halcones. See, they tried to rob you tonight. A shoot-out ensued. You killed them. They killed you.” The cops with their weapons still raised fired, killing the man and his girlfriend. “Drop the bodies, empty the cash into the van,” the lead cop said.

Clapping was heard, causing the cops to stop as a heavily-built African-American came into the room. “Bravo,” the man said, his men filing in behind him. “Cleverness _and_ efficiency. Very Robin Hood. But I doubt that you’ll be providing the poor with any of these ill-gotten gains. Enlighten me. I’m new in town.”

“Kill this prig,” the lead cop said to his men.

“No!” the interloper said. “Any attempt to kill ‘this prig’ will result in your swift demise.” The man walked forward, closing the distance between him and the lead cop. “Are you the one in charge?”

“Go to hell,” the lead cop replied.

“Oh,” the interloper said. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He struck quickly, punching the lead cop in his gut and driving him to the ground with the ferocity. At the same time, the interloper’s men raised their weapons and fired, killing the cops who had raised their weapons. The others slowly threw their weapons on the ground, showing their willingness to surrender. “Okay, gang,” the interloper said quietly as he threaded a pair of brass knuckles onto his hands. He delivered a right hook to the rising lead cop, driving him to the ground again, then began to savagely beat him to death while the other cops could only look helplessly on. The interloper turned to the remaining cops. “He said he was in charge,” he said by way of explanation. “Anybody else want to be in charge?” He waited a moment. “No takers? Then I guess it’s gonna have to be me.”

**_*DC*_ **

The next morning, the warehouse was a crime scene as Captain Franklin Pike arrived on the scene, meeting Detective Billy Malone at the line of police tape. “Six D.O.A.’s,” Malone informed his superior. “The dealer and his girlfriend, two Los Halcones, and one of our own.”

“Who’s lucky number six?” Pike asked, before spotting the body. “Keating.”

“C.O.D. doesn’t match the other vics, who were all shot at close range, but Keating—”

“Blunt force trauma,” Pike said. He held up a gold coin. “And these? What, some sort of calling card?”

“M.O. matches a skel named Tobias Church,” Malone replied. “According to his jacket, he and his crew tore up Hub City and Bludhaven.”

“And now he’s here,” Pike said grimly.

“Question is, what was Keating doing here?” Malone said.

“Nothing good,” Pike replied. “He didn’t call anything in.”

“You think he’s one of the bent cops?” Malone asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Pike said. “He’s dead now.” He put his hands on his hips. “Lance was a royal pain in the ass, but at least he kept his department in line.”

“You could always give him his badge back,” Malone replied. “He’s back in town, though word has it he took a few bumps off the wagon on his way.” Unseen by either cop, the Green Arrow was crouched above them, listening in on the entire conversation.

**_*DC*_ **

Quentin Lance lay in his apartment, more than a few bottles of liquor on his coffee table, when a knock sounded at the door. “All right, all right,” he repeated as he stood up and made his way to the door. He opened it to find Oliver on the other side, with a security detail. “Knocking,” Quentin said. “That’s not like you.” He turned and headed back into the apartment.

“Give us a minute,” Oliver told his security detail, who stepped back as he entered the apartment and shut the door behind him. “How long you been back in town?” Oliver asked.

“A couple weeks,” Quentin admitted.

Oliver frowned in consternation and concern. “Where’s Donna?” Oliver asked, referring to Felicity’s mother, who Quentin had left town with. She had convinced him he needed to get away from the city for a while, and it was only Oliver’s promise to tell him if anything changed with Laurel that had convinced Quentin to go with Donna.

“Uh, she’s in Heaven,” Quentin replied. Oliver jerked, and Quentin laughed. “It’s the casino in Vegas that she’s waitressing at these days, not…” he pointed upward.

“So, you two aren’t, um…” Oliver trailed off.

“Oh, come on, Oliver,” Quentin said grumpily. “Opposites attract but not that much. And not even Donna could make me forget about Laurel and what happened to her because of me.”

“Did you break up before…” Oliver said, trailing off again as he gestured at the bottles.

“Well, you know, not that’s it’s any of your business, but, you see, a drunk, needs a reason to stay sober. My _daughter_ is in a coma because of a choice that I made, a choice to work with a psychopath and then the choice to betray that psychopath, knowing that he had threatened her.”

“She’s still alive, Quentin, and we both know how strong Laurel is,” Oliver said, putting a hand on the older man’s shoulder, bracing him. “She survived five years where she thought Sara and I were dead, all while keeping strong for you. She survived having a chunk of wall fall on her. She spiraled like you have but she came out the other side stronger than ever. She survived her sister’s death, using it to become the Black Canary. She _chose_ to go to Iron Heights that night, just as she _chose_ to fight against Darhk even _after_ finding out that you were working with Darhk and he had threatened her life. Laurel _is_ one of the bravest and strongest women I know, Quentin, and I _know_ that she’s going to come out of this. She wouldn’t want you doing this to yourself, and she would want you to get better.” Oliver sighed. “Quentin, have you even been to see her since you got back?”

“No,” Quentin said. “You know I haven’t seen her since she slipped into the coma. I can’t do it, Oliver. I can’t go there and see her laying so still in the hospital bed, with that breathing tube down her throat. She’s like that because of me. My little girl is in a coma, depending on machines for her survival, because of what I did. I can’t go there and see the fruits of my actions, Oliver.”

“You’re going to have to confront this one day, Quentin, whether it’s when she’s sleeping or when she wakes up, because we both know when she does, she’s going to want to see her father, and she’s going to _need_ him while she rebuilds her strength,” Oliver said. “Laurel _loves_ you, Quentin. She wouldn’t want this,” he gestured to the bottles. “In the end, the only one who can make that decision is you. But I hope you’ll make it before she wakes up.” Oliver turned to go.

“How much of that was aimed at me, and how much of it was aimed at yourself?” Quentin asked behind him. Oliver didn’t answer, exiting the apartment and leaving a contemplative Quentin Lance behind. **_*3*_**

**_*DC*_ **

“You must be lost,” Felicity said as Oliver entered the bunker from the garage entrance. “City Hall is that way.”

“Wanted to see if you had info on our new player,” Oliver said as he walked up the steps.

“And you wonder why your approval rating is only middling and closer to the bottom then the top?”

“I don’t wonder,” Oliver replied.

“How did you ditch your security detail?” she asked.

“I used to ditch John Diggle,” Oliver said, mildly offended at the idea he couldn’t ditch a couple of overblown security guards.

“Yeah,” Felicity said after a moment before heading to the computers. “Tobias Church, a.k.a. Charon.”

“The ferryman of Hades,” Oliver mused over the mythology. “Left gold coins on the eyes of one of his victims last night.”

“Well, well, well,” Felicity said, and Oliver felt a spike of irritation.

“I didn’t fail every course that I took in college,” he reminded her forcefully.

“Warrants out for his arrest on no less than twenty murders,” Felicity said, deciding not to debate the merits of Oliver’s lack of academic achievements. “And those are just the ones that they can connect him to.”

“Mr. Church just became our top priority,” Oliver said.

“ _Our_ is not going to be enough for this guy,” Felicity said, continuing to harp on the whole ‘recruiting a team’.

“Okay, Felicity,” Oliver ground out.

“Church runs with a crew, and yours is not coming back,” Felicity continued, pushing her agenda.

“You don’t know that,” Oliver rebuked.

“Yes, I _do_ ,” Felicity said forcefully. “It’s called not being in denial. You really ought to give it a try. Look, for the past five months, you have been frozen in amber, waiting for things to go back to the way things were.” Oliver felt another spike of irritation at the way Felicity implied the insult that he was a fossil living in the past. “They’re _not_. You need to move forward, especially with guys like _this_ coming into town.”

“Don’t worry about him, he’s not going to be staying very long,” Oliver said coolly. “Just find a way for me to find him, please.” Oliver turned and left a frustrated Felicity behind as Curtis entered.

“Why isn’t he at City Hall?” Curtis asked as the elevator doors closed.

“That is a question I keep asking myself,” Felicity replied, tone frustrated.

“What are you working on?” Curtis asked.

“If Oliver’s asking, a location for our new baddie in town,” Felicity replied.

“And if he’s _not_ asking?” Curtis asked.

“I’ve got an address for this guy, mind checking him out for me?” Felicity asked, referring to Wild Dog.

“I am a happily married man, Felicity,” Curtis said dryly.

“Just see if you can find anything out, like if he’s loco or something,” Felicity wheedled.

“We are calling him _Wild Dog_ ,” Curtis emphasized. “Um, isn’t that already settled?”

“Please,” Felicity continued to wheedle.

“No.”

“Please,” Felicity continued to pester.

“Okay, fine,” Curtis said, taking the file. Felicity smiled as Curtis turned and headed for the elevator. One way or the other, Oliver was going to see things _her_ way. **_*4*_**

**_*DC*_ **

In the back of a shipping truck with a logo on it, Tobias Church sat with his men. “Cities are like gen pop,” he said. “First day in, you find the biggest guy in the yard, put him down, hard. Sends a message. ‘Screw not with me’. So, here we all are. Now, who’s the biggest guy in the yard?” Church picked up a copy of the police’s sketch of Green Arrow. “It’s highly unlikely that he’ll just come out to play, but it’s like my younger brother always said: Don’t fish without bait.”

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver stood in front of the recently-renovated housing projects, deep in the Glades, with the press and assorted bystanders, as well as his staff that included his sister in what he thought was too short a skirt to be considered professional, standing and waiting to hear him speak. “Thank you all for coming,” Oliver said. “Today is an important day. Just as this city was rebranded in the aftermath of Ray Palmer’s apparent death last year, so too are we rebranding these old projects in the hopes of bringing a new era for the Glades. For too long, our city’s poorest district has suffered under the malignant ministrations of corrupt businessmen and equally corrupt politicians who have put a stranglehold on the people here. The Guggenheim Projects represent the old order. By rebranding these as the Otto Schmidt Projects and renovating them to be comfortable, affordable housing for our city’s most desperate citizens, it is my hope that this will be the first step on a journey to bring the Glades back from the brink of chaos that it has been in thanks to the Undertaking, Brickwell freeing so many from prison, and the destruction of H.I.V.E.’s ark five months ago.” **_*5*_**

Clapping was heard, slow but steady, though Oliver knew it would take time to show the people of the Glades that he meant every word. But before the press could come forward with questions, the sound of motorbikes approaching caught everyone’s attention. Two motorbikes appeared, the drivers wielding Uzi’s, which they fired into the crowd even as a large black shipping truck pulled up, backing up. Shouts of fear and terror filled the air as men poured out of the truck and began grabbing up reporters, two men moving forward and shooting Oliver’s security detail before grabbing him and hauling him towards the shipping truck along with the reporters. The people watched in fear and terror as their mayor was loaded onto the shipping truck before it peeled away with the motorbikes following. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* It took some effort not to label Rene as ‘the idiot’ or ‘the hothead’ throughout this entire sequence.
> 
> *2* I hated how, just like with the C.E.O. storyline, the writers realized they couldn’t write a political storyline to save their life so they just made Oliver into an inefficient asshole who only used the position for actionable intel. I decided I wanted to fix that here.
> 
> *3* I firmly believe that Quentin would blame himself still if Laurel had ended up in a coma rather than dying and would still have been a drunken mess at the beginning of Season 5 as a result.
> 
> *4* Alright, so writing this scene was difficult because of just how annoyingly pushy Felicity got with both Oliver and Curtis in this scene. Yes, I added in Oliver being more annoyed with certain things than he was in canon because I do NOT worship the ground Felicity walks on and I don’t write Oliver to do so either.
> 
> *5* I’ve always used the Guggenheim Projects as a representation of lost hopes and dreams. Otto Schmidt is the name of an artist for the Green Arrow: Rebirth comics who has been praised for his artwork for Black Canary. From my understanding, he even did a couple of pieces showcasing Katie’s version of the character for fans.


	5. Archangel

Slender hands clenched and unclenched as Kara Zor-El, who had spent the past sixteen years playing the role of Kara Danvers, slumped against her apartment door, blue eyes closing and her breath hitching. A single tear formed at the corner of her right eye and trickled down her cheek, smearing her lightly-applied mascara in the process. "Put yourself out there, Kara," she whispered to herself, mocking her adoptive sister's words from when she had expressed her difficulty at connecting with humans outside of their family as her eyes opened again, angry tears beginning to fall as she slumped down on the floor, trying to ignore the pain in her stomach and between her legs, or the bruising around her mouth that would disappear with a few minutes under the sun without anything holding her natural abilities back. "You just need to connect with people more. Let them see you as more than an assistant." Kara swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. "Well, I did what you said, Alex," she whispered, fiddling with her earrings, the reason she had had to endure the nightmare she never imagined she would experience on this planet.

Kara was the Last Daughter of Krypton; she had been sent to Earth to protect her baby cousin, Kal, but both their pods had been caught in the wake of their world's destruction. Kara's pod had righted itself and continued to Earth, but Kal's had been knocked completely off course and entered the Phantom Zone, a region of space where time stood still and where Krypton had established Fort Rozz, their maximum-security prison. Kara had crashed to Earth near the Danvers residence, and if not for them and their kindness in helping the alien girl who had lost her world, their patience in teaching her their language and helping her acclimate to her new world, she might well have become an experiment to those humans who had darkness in their hearts. Slowly, she had learned to trust the Danvers family and used some of the supplies her mother had sent with her to create jewelry she could wear so she wouldn't have to worry about accidentally hurting anyone.

Unfortunately, this recent experience with one of her co-workers wasn't the first time she had dealt with this. It was the fourth, and the first three times had been on Krypton. She had been taught from an early age to trust her elders and never question them, and so she had never thought about what Non did to her as being wrong until she came to Earth. The worst thing about this was that she could do nothing; if she reported it, they would want to do a rape kit and a medical examination, including taking blood samples, which would lead to the revelation that her DNA wasn't human. If there was one thing Kara feared above all else, it was the idea of being strapped to a cold metal table somewhere as faceless men cut into her with scalpels, trying to find out what made her tick, what made her weak or strong… what could be used to kill her.

The jewelry she wore was made from what they had come to call Blue Kryptonite. Stones from Kara's homeworld much like a geode or a crystal formation, the blue and red stones were likewise affected under a yellow sun the same as Kara. Blue Kryptonite stripped her of her powers so long as she wore the jewelry. Once they were placed in the lead-lined jewelry cases, her powers were restored. The Red Kryptonite, on the other hand, was the closest thing to a narcotic that she had ever had, lowering her inhibitions and turning her into what Alex had informed her was called a 'mean girl'. 

Kara wiped her eyes. Today was a workday for what she called her 'normal job' as an assistant at the  _ Daily Planet _ , and while she could call in sick, she wasn't going to let Randall Weiss know he had gotten to her. She wouldn't let him break her spirit like he had broken her body with that paralytic he had slipped her. She would get through the day by picturing him being burned to ash with her heat vision. She wouldn't  _ do it _ , of course, but it was a nice thought. Kara pulled herself to her feet and headed for the bathroom.

**_*DC*_ **

Kara fumbled with her keys as she made her way to her car. She hadn't been able to do it. She had stepped into the lobby of the  _ Daily Planet  _ and seen him talking to one of the other assistants, and just froze for a moment before turning around and walking out again. She didn't care if she got fired. She couldn't do it; she couldn't go to that building and pretend that everything was fine. It wasn't like she really had any friends, anyways; the closest to that she had was Cat Grant, who because of her ability to read people and socialize with anyone had ended up being given the gossip column. The only two people at the Planet aside from Cat and Randall that Kara knew was the editor-in-chief, Perry White, and Lois Lane, an abrasive redhead who had become a bit of a rival for Cat in terms of popularity.

Kara sat in her car for a moment before starting it and pulling out of the underground garage, joining the stream of traffic. She turned on the radio. " _ In business news today, Wayne Enterprises stock has risen sharply at the announcement that Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham and taken an interest in the company, _ " the news broadcast she usually tuned into said. " _ This marks the first time since the senseless slaying of Thomas and Martha Wayne nearly eighteen years ago that a Wayne will be involved in the day-to-day workings of the family’s vast business empire. _ " Kara had always found it amusing how simple things could give shareholders confidence in companies they held stock in. She herself had some minor stock in Wayne Enterprises along with a handful of other companies. 

The rest of the news reports included the usual round-up of rumors regarding 'unusual people', a new addition to the news cycle ever since the mysterious report of a rescued Coast Guard crew caught in the freak Cat-5 storm that had risen up in the ocean off the coast of Florida a year or so back. The reports indicated a single man had saved the crew of the Coast Guard cutter, a man who vanished into the still turbulent waters and had never resurfaced. Most believed this to be an urban legend, but more and more stories like that were coming out of the woodwork. Kara herself had wanted to step in and help people many times with the powers she had under a yellow sun, but Alex had always managed to talk her out of it. 

Yet every time she let Alex talk her out of helping, she inevitably looked over the lists of the dead during disasters and wondered how many of them would be alive today if she had told Alex that she was going, and that was that. But fears of ending up on a table with alien-hunters poking and prodding and cutting her open had always won out. In some ways, Kara was glad that there had been no sign of Kal's pod. She wasn't sure she wanted her little cousin to grow up living in fear as she had since arriving on this world.

But still she had wondered if she could've made a difference on so many occasions. It wasn't like most people had ever seen her without the Imago Protocol her glasses were designed with, which altered her appearance to be like. She had two pairs of glasses: one she wore to the  _ Daily Planet _ and one she wore to what she considered her real job. The pair she wore to the  _ Daily Planet _ darkened and dulled her blue eyes to ensure they were not so prominent, and her blonde tresses became a rich, dark chocolate brown. The pair of glasses she wore to what she considered her  _ real _ job, which she usually did at night since she only needed a few hours and the yellow sun took care of the rest, changed her eyes to be a generic hazel and her hair to be black. Most importantly, her natural tan complexion was lightened to be porcelain-like.

The  _ Daily Planet _ was a play job, something to keep Alex, Eliza, and Jeremiah from finding out the truth. She even had an apartment more suited to Kara Danvers, lowly assistant at the  _ Daily Planet  _ for them to visit her at, even though she had a more luxurious penthouse residence for the identity of Dr. Lara Ellison, a brilliant but reclusive astrophysicist who had received enticing offers from LuthorCorp, S.T.A.R. Labs, and even the Department of Defense.

She had met representatives from each faction. Lex Luthor had been charming enough, but something about him reminded her of Non; a malice that existed just beneath the surface. Silas Stone was well-meaning enough but there was something about him that made her think he was the kind of man who would view her as an experiment if he ever learned the truth about her. The Department of Defense representative, Hank Henshaw, made her uneasy. There was something in his eyes, in the way he spoke of watching the stars, that made Kara feel as though he was one of those who would cut her open with a smile on his face if he learned what she truly was.

**_*DC*_ **

Kara entered her private facility in the guise of Dr. Lara Ellison and dressed in a black pantsuit, silk blouse, and flats, her hair pulled into a business-like bun. Her assistant, Evelyn 'Eve' Tessmacher, hurried up her with a tablet in hand. Eve also ran the day-to-day for Kara and was unaware she spent her days masquerading as a lowly assistant. "Dr. Ellison, you'll be pleased to know that our mapping of inner regions of the galaxy continues to bring new and exciting discoveries. The most recent discovery is what appears to be the remnants of a planet circling a red giant. There might be another world in the system, but our probe was destroyed by what we  _ think _ was an asteroid impact. There's a lot of debris."

"Send me all the files on that incident," Kara replied briskly, and Eve nodded, heading off while Kara looked over the other findings of Radiant Astronomical Observational Enterprises, or R.A.O. Enterprises for short, her private company dedicated to uncovering the mysteries of space using her 'innovative technology', one of the many reasons the D.O.D. had repeated their offers and why Lex Luthor still sent occasional invitations to his charity events. She had entertained the idea of going to one on occasion, but the truth was that she knew her adoptive parents occasionally attended and while the average person wouldn't see through her disguise, Jeremiah had been the one to teach her how to create the Imago Protocol with Earth technology.

Eve's description  _ could _ have fit many systems, but something deep inside Kara told her that one of their probes had finally 'discovered' her home system. She had sent a probe there years ago to monitor the Phantom Zone, when she had first started R.A.O. Enterprises; there was a good chance that that probe (which had been armed) had taken out the probe her company had launched. If so, she needed to scrub the data and replace it with data that made it look like an asteroid strike, as Eve had suggested might be the case. Arriving at her office, Kara locked it tight and began reviewing everything she had missed. She had had that 'date' the previous night and the two nights before that had been Alex's monthly 'sister time', and Kara was not looking forward to what would happen the next time Alex decided it was time for a sister-bonding session, because Alex would no doubt want to know how her date with Randall Weiss went.

Kara began reviewing the telemetry received from the probe and felt a brief wave of relief. It  _ had _ been just an asteroid strike that took out the probe. But there was a glimpse of  _ her _ probe in the distance and Kara called upon her childhood education on Krypton to edit the image without giving away that it  _ had _ been edited. Smiling, she closed the files on the incident and opened up the connection to  _ her _ probe, expecting the usual sensor readings, only to freeze in shock. Her probe had registered  _ two _ distinct energy signatures emerging from the Phantom Zone and entering hyperspace.

Kara's hands shook briefly as she typed in a command on her system to analyze the two signatures and compare them to her database of known spacecraft from all known civilizations. It wouldn't be the first time she had picked up a ship from Czarnia or Almarec, to name a few. She held her breath as the system matched the ships. She began to breathe again when one was registered as a Kryptonian pod-ship like the one that brought her to Earth.  _ Kal _ . At long last… But then her breath caught in her throat as the second signature was registered, and her pulse quickened. Fort Rozz. Somehow, Kal's ship had pulled Fort Rozz out with it. "Oh, Rao," she whispered and typed in yet another command, trying to figure out where and when they would arrive at Earth.

**_*DC*_ **

General Astra Non-Zel and her bondmate, Sub-Commander Non-Zel, stood on the ridge a short ways from the crash site of Fort R'ozz, which had served as their prison for so long. When the prison had been pulled free of the Phantom Zone, they and their fellow Kryptonian soldiers who had been imprisoned there (among them the infamous General Dru-Zod) had swiftly brought control to the chaos. Zod himself stood slightly apart from Astra and Non. Their soldiers had lined up behind them while the 'fodder' as Zod considered the non-Kryptonian prisoners raced towards the pod with the mark of the House of El embossed on it. "Jor-El was the one to expose my plot to the High Council," Zod mused. "I must confess I am conflicted. Ending his child's life, especially that of a natural-born abomination, would be satisfying, but I wonder if raising the child as my own would be more suitable."

"Well, you can always wipe the fodder from the field yourself if you feel so inclined, General Zod," Non replied, watching the other prisoners close in on the pod in anticipation. All of them had been sentenced to the prison by Alura Zor-El and destroying the last son of the House of El would be the closest thing to revenge they would ever receive. For they had learned that the cataclysm that Zod, and later Astra, had tried to avoid through armed rebellion and the use of the Myriad project had come to pass. Krypton had been destroyed, and with it everything they had fought and bled for. Alura and her husband's house had been traitors to the Kryptonian species, a race that now numbered in the low hundreds with all their forces on Fort Rozz (those who hadn't been killed as they tried to bring order) rather than the millions that had lived in the cities across the planet. Non cocked his head as a distant rumbling filled the air. "What is that?"

"Never heard thunder before?" Faora, Zod's chief subordinate and lover, jeered at Non, with whom she had always had a professional rivalry.

"I've heard thunder, but never in clear skies," Non retorted, even as he scanned the skies. He pointed. "Look, there!" A figure was soaring through the air and came down hard, landing in a crouch between the oncoming horde of 'fodder' and the Kryptonian pod. The Kryptonians had learned as they approached this world they had great power within range of the yellow sun that this system revolved around, and one of the first things they had learned was how to focus their hearing. Having been born with a predisposition towards military service (or in rare cases science) each of them had learned how to control their senses in the field of battle. Those few with scientific leanings had learned quickly enough once their military compatriots had shown them the way. The other thing they had all learned, Kryptonian and non-Kryptonian alike, was the native languages of the world they were heading towards.

Because of this, they could hear the murmurings from the horde as they pulled up short while the woman straightened up before rising into the air, floating in front of them with her arms crossed over her chest before speaking herself. "You will not pass, prisoners of Fort Rozz," she said. "You have two choices. Return to Fort Rozz or die at my hand. You will not harm the child."

A lizard-like prisoner shot forward, trusting his agility, and the woman turned her head before her eyes lit up and energy emitted from them, striking the lizard-like alien, who screamed in agony as fire erupted across its body. Within moments, the alien had become a pile of ash that quickly mixed with the desert sands. Most of the inmates turned and fled at the sight, but a few moved forward, and the woman (perhaps a Daxamite who had survived their planet’s destruction in the wake of Krypton’s death) sprang into action. 

A Vrang launched itself at her with a snarl, and she drove her hand into its chest, ripping its heart out and tossing it aside with casual arrogance. Another lizard-like creature shot forward and the woman caught them with freezing breath before smashing their frozen forms to bits. With each of their number that fell, more turned and fled, until only a Valeronian called Vartox remained.

"On my world, women bow to men," Vartox sneered at the mysterious figure. "You should be on your knees or warming my bed."

"This isn't your world," the woman spat, "and I'm no Daxamite harlot." She sped around Vartox and delivered blow to his spine. The Kryptonian soldiers could hear the crack of his spine as it broke underneath the blow. "I am the Last Daughter of Krypton." Shock flooded the soldiers watching the battle, though they forced themselves not to react to the revelation that this vision of terrifying beauty was one of their own, proof that others had survived the destruction of their homeworld. The Kryptonian woman delivered a blow to Vartox's jaw, dislocating it and eliciting a warbling wail from the Valeronian. "I am Kara Zor-El, and I will bow to  _ no man _ ." The woman that Astra could scarcely believe was her little niece gripped Vartox's head between her hands, her thumbs plunging into his eyeballs. His wail was cut short as his head pulped between her hands. She let the body drop, stooping down to wipe her hands on the prisoner uniform. The wailing of a small voice from the pod pulled her attention. She rose and went to the pod, ripping the canopy from it without any sign of strain and tossing it aside as though it were a dirty robe. Happy gurgling replaced the wailing.

"Oh, Kal," Kara whispered, pulling the baby wrapped in a red blanket into her arms along with a single Kryptonian crystal, "you still recognize me after sixteen years?" A happy gurgle was her only answer, but it lit Kara's face. "You're safe now, little cousin." Kara cocked her head to the side before turning, staring into the distance, eyes narrowing. "Henshaw," she snarled. "So, he  _ is _ an alien hunter. Well, I won't let him get any prizes from  _ this  _ fight." Kara rose into the air, the child in her arms, and unleashed her heat vision, destroying everything, including the pod. Only one body remained, and she used her 'freeze breath' on it before shattering it into tiny pieces. "Let that bastard get something from  _ that _ ," she said smugly before taking off, soaring into the night sky.

Astra and Zod had both turned in the direction that Kara had stared towards, focusing their hearing and their gaze, their soldiers following the generals' lead. Three primitive air vehicles were approaching, armed men in all of them. One of the men had a nametag on his uniform, reading 'Henshaw'. They all registered his features, committing them to memory. Kara Zor-El clearly saw this man as a threat to all who weren't native to this world and sought to keep him from obtaining a prize. "We should follow my niece's lead, General Zod," Astra said.

"Agreed, General Zel," Zod replied. "We should disperse into the native population and attempt to blend in until we can establish if they have anything which can harm us."

"And if they can't?" Non asked.

"That will depend on what else we learn of these people," Zod said, Astra nodding in agreement. With that, the Kryptonian host fled the site of the crash long before the helicopters landed.

**_*DC*_ **

Kara laid her baby cousin on the large bed she normally occupied herself, laying beside the sleeping toddler and watching him sleep, her hand running over the blanket. Things would have to change now; she could not take care of her cousin as Kara Danvers, lowly assistant at the  _ Daily Planet _ , and there was no way in hell she was going to let someone else raise her baby cousin. She had watched and waited for sixteen long years, and she couldn’t, wouldn’t give up watching over her cousin now, no matter what. She would need to call her lawyer in the morning; Wolfram & Hart were a rather disputable law firm, but that was what she had needed to create the fiction of Dr. Kara Ellison, and what she would need to take custody of Kal, who didn’t have a record of birth on this planet. Her own background when she arrived had been done by pretending to everyone else she had amnesia and the Danvers’ making an effort for show of finding her parents, even though they knew the truth. 

Kara’s eyes drifted to the crystal that had been in the pod with her cousin. She recognized it, of course; it was one of the crystals that one of her ancestors had created for the use of making libraries of knowledge when a new city was created. A Fortress of Solitude, they called it, for at the time learning was heavily restricted and the libraries were forced to be built far away from cities like Kandor and Argo City. Kara had a device here in her apartment that would allow her to read such a crystal and interact with the artificial intelligence that governed it. She kissed the sleeping baby on his forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake, little one,” she said, using the same affectionate nickname her own aunt had given to her before picking up the crystal and heading into her private study. A retinal scan, biometric lock, and voiceprint identification later and she was standing in front of the device she had often sought her mother’s counsel from. Now, she placed the crystal that had come with Kal in the appropriate slot and stepped back. 

Soon, an image formed, and unsurprisingly, it was that of Jor-El. “Uncle,” she greeted calmly. 

“Kara Zor-El,” Jor responded. “You are not a child as I believed you would be.” 

“There was a complication,” Kara replied. “The system you’re interfaced with has all the information you’ll require to understand the situation.” She waited in silence as the A.I. assimilated the information on her separation from Kal, the disappearance of Kal’s pod into the Phantom Zone, and her sixteen-year wait for her baby cousin. 

“You’re commitment to your duty to your house is to be commended, Kara Zor-El,” Jor finally said. “From my understanding you have assimilated well into the human culture. This is fortuitous, as Kal-El can only become the ambassador for a new race of Kryptonians if he lives among and understands humans as you have learned to do.” 

“There is a greater concern, Uncle,” Kara replied. “Fort Rozz came out of the Phantom Zone with Kal’s pod. I killed many of them who tried to reach his pod, but many more fled and more still may have never approached the pod for fear Kryptonians would descend upon them.” Jor’s hologram flickered as he processed this but said nothing. “My mother sent me with supplementary information but if Kal is to live among the humans and learn to love them, they have to be protected, and I’m the only one who can do that. Do you disagree?” She waited silently for the A.I.’s answer.

This could be a sticking point. The House of El may have been united in their common desire to see their children survive the destruction of Krypton, but they were not ranked among the noble houses of Krypton without incident. Their house had as many secrets as any other and could be just as dysfunctional. For all their collaboration on the spaceships that had brought Kara and Kal to Earth, Zor and Jor had had ‘creative differences’ when it came to science. Jor had preferred ethical experiments while Zor had believed in success at any cost (ironic, seeing as he was married to one of the high justices of Argo City). 

“You are correct, Kara Zor-El,” Jor’s hologram finally replied. “I am coding your DNA to the Fortress crystal. When you are ready, follow it to the place that has been prepared, far to the South of all human civilization. You will have access to all of knowledge contained within the Fortress of Solitude. The future of our House rests with you and Kal-El. Choose your course wisely.” Jor’s hologram faded and Kara retrieved the crystal, placing it on a shelf within the vault and closing it up again. She would need the fabricators in the fortress to create a battle suit, because she knew the prisoners in Fort Rozz wouldn’t lay down without a fight, and the last thing she wanted was to expose herself during a fight. She knew how disgusting human men could be with those they considered sex objects or women who scared them. 


End file.
